Snippets
by FadedPromise
Summary: Very short L&J pieces suggested by a few lines from song lyrics. Give them a shot. They're short enough that you won't be wasting much time.
1. She Just Wants to Dance - Keb' Mo'

_Author's Note: So here's the thing. I plot my writing for the day while I'm exercising in the morning, but lately the songs on my exercise playlist keep suggesting other L&J stories so I can't concentrate on 'Prisoners'. I thought maybe if I wrote these little pieces down I could get them out of my head. Each chapter title will be the song and artist, and at the end I'll give the particular lines that inspired me. Some of the chapters will be based in canon, some AU, and some totally weird. One last thing. Please don't judge my taste by these songs, some of which were chosen strictly for their tempo._

Lucien heard the music from outside as he emerged from the car. He wondered at it, since Jean had insisted she didn't like Bobby Lee's song, or so-called 'rock-and-roll' at all, for that matter. He opened the front door quietly and hung his hat on the peg. Then he crept forward to see what was going on.

The sight he beheld was breathtaking. Jean, feather duster in hand, dancing to the music quite seductively as she dusted her way around the room. His first instinct was to tease her mercilessly about how much she 'hated' the music, but as she swayed her hips and moved with such grace, he thought better of it.

Jean, this beautiful creature with such hidden depths, just felt moved by the hypnotic rhythm of the simple song. If he interrupted her, she would be self-conscious and he knew he would never again have such a perfect moment to see the real woman behind the prim housekeeper. No, he would leave her to enjoy herself in peace.

Smiling to himself, Lucien walked away without letting her know what he'd seen.

_She ain't looking for no lover_

_She ain't looking for romance_

_She just wants to dance_

_She just wants to dance_

_Get out the way and let the girl dance_

_Author's Note 2: If you're a fan of the blues and you aren't familiar with Keb' Mo' do yourself a favor and check him out. I believe he's currently on tour in the U.S. This is one of my favorites of his._


	2. Shut Up and Dance - Walk the Moon

They sat around a table on the balcony of the Colonists' Club, celebrating the engagement (finally) of Matthew and Alice. Lucien was teasing Matthew mercilessly, and although she knew it meant nothing, that the two men had done it to each other since their boyhood, Jean could see that Alice was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the barbs.

Knowing her husband, Jean realized that Lucien would never intentionally cause Alice any discomfort. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Dance with me."

He was about to say something further to Matthew, and although she knew it would be witty, she cut him off and took his arm. "Lucien, shut up and dance with me," she repeated, her whisper more fierce this time.

Lucien recognized that tone of voice. He had stepped over the line somehow. He needed to make it right immediately. He would do anything for this woman who had brought him so much joy, so much contentment, so much _life_.

"Please excuse us," he said to the newly engaged couple. "My beautiful wife would like to dance."

He escorted Jean to the dance floor inside, and as always they fell into perfect step with each other immediately. When she leaned back away from him just a bit, he lifted a questioning eyebrow to ask what he'd done to upset her.

"Lucien, you and Matthew are like brothers and it's fine for you to act like it with your teasing," she began.

"But?" he prompted.

"But Alice is not accustomed to the way you two treat each other. It looked like she was taking some of your teasing personally."

Lucien's heart sank. How stupid and selfish could he be? He would never hurt Alice. Never! He had to apologize to her at once.

Jean held tighter to him, seeing his intention and refusing to let him make it worse. "Don't you dare," she told him. "If you say anything now, in front of Matthew, Alice will only be more embarrassed. Tell her in private, just the two of you."

He nodded, knowing she was right. "Yes, of course," he said soberly. "Jean, I really don't know how I managed to make it through my life without your wisdom to guide me." He kissed her gently on the cheek with a promise of more when they got home."

She smiled at him with just a trace of smugness. "Lucky for you I'm not going anywhere."

_She took my arm,_

_I don't know how it happened._

_We took the floor and she said_

_Oh, don't you dare look back,_

_Just keep your eyes on me,_

_I said you're holding back._

_She said shut up and dance with me!_

_This woman is my destiny._

_She said shut up and dance!_


	3. I Love LA - Randy Newman

_Author's Note: This is set in a modern AU I'm kicking around as possibly my next story. Living in Los Angeles, Lucien is a former classical music prodigy now playing piano in a blues bar; Jean is a widowed singer who takes a gig at the same bar. Here they are just really getting to know each other._

Jean felt like something out of a Beach Boys music video. Here she was riding up the Pacific Coast Highway in a vintage Corvette convertible with the wind rustling her hair, sitting beside this gorgeous blond man with his sunglasses on and one muscled forearm resting on the steering wheel.

Lucien turned to flash her a brilliant smile. "Some music?" he suggested.

She nodded, smiling back. Music was much easier than telling him her life story at this early stage in their relationship. She was already preparing herself for his inevitable disappearance as soon as he found out she was the mother of two kids. She'd done this dance before. Better to enjoy his charming company while she could, even though conversation was inevitable when they eventually stopped for lunch.

He turned on the radio, cranking up the volume so it could be heard over the rush of the wind, then punched a button for one of his preset stations.

She laughed in delight as 'Fun Fun Fun' came through the car's speakers. Yes, she thought, I will have fun, fun, fun until life disappoints me once more.

_Roll down the window, put down the top._

_Crank up The Beach Boys, baby,_

_Don't let the music stop._

_We're gonna ride it 'til we just can't ride it no more._


	4. You Saved My Soul - Burton Cummings

One year. It had flown by, and yet it was difficult now to think of his life before Jean had become his wife, his partner, his very soul. The darkness had been banished for good the day they vowed to spend the rest of their lives together. For Lucien, the term 'his better half' didn't begin to describe all that Jean meant to him.

They had just returned from dinner out at the newest, most elegant restaurant in Ballarat, and Lucien sat on the couch in their bedroom suite, waiting for his wife to join him. She emerged from their bathroom, and her brilliant smile made his heart sing with happiness.

He handed her a glass of scotch as he said softly, "Happy Anniversary, my love. Thank you for the most wonderful year of my life."

They touched their glasses in the toast, smiling at each other.

"If I have my way," said Jean, "it will only get better from here on out."

Little did she know...

_You saved my soul._

_You came along and took me out of the nighttime._

_Yeah, you saved my soul and taught me to fly._


	5. Girls Just Want to Have Fun - Cyndi Laup

With her shift behind the make-up counter finished for the day, Jean turned her attention to the debutante ball. She had two hours to dress and do her hair and make-up before Christopher arrived to escort to the big event.

Her dress had turned out just as she'd imagined it, and as she looked at herself in the mirror, she knew it was as fine as any of those the wealthy girls had purchased in the best Melbourne shops. When Christopher saw her, the look in his eyes confirmed it.

After all of the young ladies were presented and had their moment on stage, the dance began. She was stopped several times by others asking where she had had her dress made, but she only smiled in response. For once in her life she was the centre of attention and enjoying every minute of it.

She danced with Christopher, and as she moved effortlessly across the floor she noticed one particular young man watching her, entranced. He was several years older than she, standing at the bar with a drink in his hand. His white, perfectly-tailored dinner jacket and crisp black satin bow tie marked his social status as well above Jean's own, but when she caught his eye, he lifted a glass in toast to her. He winked, his sparkling blue eyes continuing to watch her.

Emboldened by the confidence her dress provided, she watched him back, noting his broad shoulders and the curl of his hair, just begging for her fingers to tousle it. She imagined sliding her hands over those shoulders, then clasping them behind his neck as she pulled his head down for a kiss.

"Hey!" said Christopher, drawing her attention back to him. He really was a sweet boy, and she was lucky to have him, she knew, but there was no harm in looking, was there?

_When the working day is done_

_Oh, girls they wanna have fun._


	6. I'm Only Joking - Kongos

_Author's Note: This one takes place in the same modern AU as chapter 3. If you aren't familiar with the song, be warned the lyrics make it NSFW - earphones are your friends here. But it has a great rhythm and the first line is lovely._

Jean went to put the broom away while Lucien took the last chair down from the table and pushed it back into place.

"Do you do this often, close the place up?" she asked.

"Not often, only when Matt has an emergency. Which seems to be happening much more frequently since Alice has been pregnant," he admitted.

She laughed. Since she had realized exactly who he was, she found it somewhat amusing that "Lucien", the teenaged piano prodigy known only by his first name, was actually cleaning floors and wiping down tables. She turned toward the window, staring out at the moonlit night. She didn't want him to think she was actually laughing at _him_.

"What?" he said, smiling quizzically.

"It's just, well, my mother used to play your Christmas album, and I would stare at the album cover and wonder what your life was like." She grinned. "This wasn't exactly what I pictured."

He joined her laughter. "Ah, yes, the good life," he agreed.

She moved over to the piano and smoothed a hand over the keyboard cover. "Could I ask a huge favor?" she said hesitantly. "You're allowed to refuse."

"Oh?"

"Would you mind terribly playing something for me?"

"Didn't I just play behind you for two full sets?" he reminded her.

"No, I mean something classical."

He paused, and she thought he would refuse, but then he sat down on the bench and flexed his fingers. "These days I take requests. Anything in particular you'd like to hear?"

"Your choice," she told him. "Bear in mind I'm not an expert in classical music, so please make it something I might recognize."

Smiling, he said, "I'm fairly sure you know this one."

The gentle, haunting strains of 'Moonlight Sonata' emerged, played with such pathos that she thought she might cry. She wondered how a man with such talent had wound up here, playing to a hundred people when he could be playing Carnegie Hall or the Sydney Opera House.

When he finished, she wasn't sure if she should clap, but she didn't want to break the mood. "That was exquisite," she told him. "Why?"

"Why here?" he said. "Matt's a very old friend. And then, there's this."

He held out his hands and she could see the tremors in them. She gasped, wondering what had happened to him.

_There's a song, _

_You're trembling to its tune_

_At the request of the moon._


	7. We're All Alone - Boz Scaggs

_This one is the last song on my playlist actually. I listen to it while I cool down because it's such a beautiful song, and perfect for L&J._

Jean stood at the window, staring out at the darkness, tears still sitting at the corners of her eyes. She knew she shouldn't let the gossip bother her, especially not now when she and Lucien would be married in just a few days. But she'd gone through so much, especially with Mei Lin's sudden appearance. And despite the temptation of living in the same house with her handsome, virile fiancé they had gone no further than some very intense kissing. She had vowed to wait until they were married to consummate it, and although she could often see the want in Lucien's eyes, he had never pressured her to go further.

Yet every time she went into town these days she could hear the whispers and snickers behind her back, many from women she'd known since her school days. Women who'd served with her on Church committees. Women she'd considered friends at one time.

Each time she swore she wouldn't let their pettiness bother her, and yet it seemed she returned in tears every single time. She had fled up the stairs quickly, hoping Lucien wouldn't see how upset she was. But as she heard the footsteps ascending the stairs, she knew he had noticed. He always noticed these days.

He knocked politely on the door of course. He would never enter without her permission. And she could never deny that permission.

"Jean?" he said quietly.

She wiped her eyes. "Come in, Lucien."

He stepped inside carefully, looked at her for a moment then held his arms out. She walked into them and felt herself enfolded in his embrace.

"My beautiful Jean," he whispered. "You're so much better than those biddies."

She shook her head. "Those 'biddies', as you call them, are the people I grew up with, Lucien. If I don't have them any more... I'm not like you, I need friends."

She saw the hurt in his eyes. She knew her Lucien - she was enough for him. He had been a loner for most of his life, especially after losing Mei Lin and Li, so finding her was all he needed. But as much as she loved and needed him, she needed other people, too.

Right now, though, she needed him desperately. She leaned into his broad chest and let the tears fall. He was the only one she would allow to see her tears, knowing he would never take advantage of her weakness.

"Let it go," he murmured. "Just remember that by this time next week we'll be on our honeymoon. Far away from here. And by the time we return, they'll have found someone else to gossip about. You'll be a properly married lady. And they'll still be biddies."

She couldn't help snorting at that. He always made her feel better.

"And until then?" she asked, looking up into his beautiful eyes.

"Until then ignore them, pretend you don't hear them. It will drive them crazy. And in the meantime, we'll go down to the studio, put on some music and drink to all the happy years we're going to have together."

She managed a smile just for him. "You know," she said, "sometimes I'm convinced those 'biddies' are just jealous. I have you and they don't."

He beamed at that. Hand in hand they walked downstairs.

_Close the window, calm the light_

_And it will be all right._

_No need to bother now._

_Let it out. Let it all begin._

_Learn how to pretend._


	8. Yellow Lines - The Wiyos

_I said some of these might be weird. Here you go._

Jean stared down at the corner of the house that had landed squarely on top of the witch. She still wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but there was no doubt the witch was dead.

"Clearly most sincerely dead," commented the scarecrow standing just behind her, peering over her shoulder at the body. She turned to look at him - she had never seen a scarecrow in a three-piece suit before.

"Is that your professional opinion?" asked the tin woodsman beside him.

"Well, I would need an autopsy, of course, to determine cause of death," said the scarecrow.

The good witch who floated in her bubble above them was looking closely at the corpse as well. "Blunt force trauma, obviously," she pronounced. "Weapon, well, that house."

"I think you're right," said the scarecrow. "By the way, lovely shoes."

He pointed at Jean's feet where she wore some gaudy things covered in red sequins. "Where did these come from?" she wondered.

"From the victim," said the good witch.

"Probably wouldn't be caught dead in them," Jean muttered under her breath.

"Those are evidence," stated the tin woodsman. "And I'll need a statement."

"Can't that wait?" the scarecrow asked, looking at her with compassion.

Those blue eyes looked very familiar. In fact, most of this looked familiar, except for the witch, and even she bore a distinct resemblance to Susan Tyneman. "Are we still in Australia? In Oz?" she asked.

"We're in Oz," the scarecrow confirmed. "Where else would we be?"

"I seem to be confused about what's going on," Jean admitted.

"You'll figure it out. I always said you were smarter than me. Although, since I don't have a brain, that's not saying much," he confided.

She sighed. "I suppose we'll have to go looking for the wizard now, if I'm ever going to get back home." She had a feeling the wizard would look like Patrick Tyneman.

"There's no place like home," the good witch observed. "Or so I've been told."

"Well, then, are you coming?" she asked the others as she started forward on the yellow path in front of her.

"Of, course. I'll always be at your side," vowed the scarecrow.

The tin man fell into step beside them. "I'll never get her statement if those flying monkeys get to her first."

The good witch looked annoyed. "I suppose I'll just do the autopsy by myself, shall I?" she called after them.

"That would be lovely," said the scarecrow over his shoulder, slipping his hand into the crook of Jean's elbow.

"Some things never change," the good witch muttered as she watched them walk away.

_Last night my house came down on the witch._

_Now Munchkinland around here's got one less bitch._

_What you gonna do when they come down hard on you?_

_Everybody's staring down at your brand new walking shoes._


	9. You Can Dance to the Blues-Sista Jean&CB

_A/N: One last snippet set in the modern AU I'm considering as my next project._

Jean held the final note of her song, then released it to impressive applause from the audience. Smiling, she bowed to them and said, "Thank you. I'll be back later. For now, please enjoy the band."

She slipped backstage, noticing that Lucien followed her.

"I like the changes you made to the set," he told her. "That order works much better."

"Yes, I thought so," she agreed. "Building up better to the last song."

"Indeed. How about a drink?"

"Mm, yes. I'm parched." She let him defer to her, leading the way out to the bar where Cec poured them their preferred drinks, a scotch for Lucien, a sherry for Jean. Cec nodded toward an open table next to the kitchen, and Lucien thanked him, then pulled out a chair for her.

For a moment they didn't speak, with Jean admiring the band and Lucien admiring her. She blushed when she caught him at it.

"Sorry," he said, also blushing. He turned his attention to the music. Their current song was a rather upbeat version of the classic, 'Junco Partner'. "Would you like to dance?" he asked.

"To this?" she asked, smiling to assure him she enjoyed his attentions. "Don't you know you can't dance to the blues?"

He laughed, delighted. "My dear, you can dance to any music that you want to, and you know that as well as I do." He stood and held out his hand.

As she accepted it and stood up, she saw him make a motion to the drummer. 'Junco Partner' quickly ended, to be replaced by the much slower, more sensual 'Sunday Kind of Love'.

"Much better," she said, as he took her into his arms and they began to sway together. "I've actually been considering adding this song to my second set."

"You could certainly do it justice," Lucien assured her.

"Lucien Blake, are you flirting with me?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm certainly trying to. Is it working?" he asked hopefully.

It was her turn to laugh in delight. "It seems to be," she admitted.

"Good. Because I'd like to see more of you. Much more."

_You can dance to the blues if you want to._

_A/N2: Sista Jean is Jean McClain, one of the lead vocalists for Hugh Laurie's Copper Bottom Band._


	10. I Was an Island - Allison Weiss

_Author's Note: In the episode "Measure Twice" when Jean is standing in the doorway, looking at Lucien in his hospital bed, the devastated look on her face has always made me want to cry for her. This is what I think was going through her mind._

She stood, looking at this man she loved with every fibre of her being. She had very nearly lost him this night. They all had very nearly lost him - Matthew, Charlie, Alice, Mattie, Li, all the people who loved this brilliant man who would soon be her husband.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? That he would soon be her husband. She had turned her back on her church, on God's Church, in order to marry Lucien. And as she'd been reminded earlier that day in her conversation with Rose, the last time she'd so blatantly defied the teachings of her church, God had punished her by taking away her yet-to-be-born daughter. Was this a warning? If she went through with the wedding would He punish her yet again, this time by taking Lucien from her?

She knew what Lucien would tell her. He thought of religion as superstitious nonsense. And she knew he could probably back up his opinion with all manner of learned research. After all he had read Saint Augustine and Saint Thomas Aquinas and any number of religious scholars, but he had also read her heart and so he knew what her faith meant to her. He tried his best not to belittle it or criticise the tenacity with which she held it.

She wondered if she loved him enough to walk away if that was the only way to save him. But save him for what? It might save his life, but she knew just how much she meant to him. He would be miserable, probably blame himself and fall back into his self-destructive ways. What kind of life was that?

And what about her? Without him, what did she have? Could she go back to being content with her sewing circle and her film society? Her love for Lucien had shown her that life could be lived in technicolour. Black and white was fine sometimes, once in a while, but without Lucien she would no longer have the choice. She knew now that life ought to be a huge MGM musical rather than a drab B-movie.

No, there was really no option for either of them. God wouldn't have given them each other and the bountiful love they shared if He meant for them to turn their backs on it. She couldn't give Lucien up, couldn't be that cruel to either of them. She would take the leap of faith in their love, come what may.

_I was a rebel, but I had a cause,_

'_Til you came to town, pushed me around,_

_And showed me what love was._

_Oh, I can't do this alone any more._

_I'm no good on my own any more._


	11. Don't Get Me Wrong - The Pretenders

Jean was washing up the lunch dishes when she heard the front door.

"Jean," he called out, as he always did.

She liked to think he couldn't bear to be away from her one moment longer than was absolutely necessary. Certainly she felt that way about him. Six months of marriage hadn't changed that one bit. "In here," she called, wet plate in hand as she turned from the sink to greet him.

He appeared in the doorway, carrying what appeared to be a rather heavy carton. He set it on the table then turned to greet her properly, a dazzling smile on his face. So dazzling that she dropped the plate in her hand, not even remembering she held it until it shattered on the floor.

Ignoring the shards that had scattered everywhere, he stepped forward, swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly. A kiss which she returned in kind.

When he released her, she looked around at the mess she'd made. "I'd better get the broom and clean this up before someone gets cut," she said, shaking her head. "At this rate, between the two of us, there won't be enough plates left for when we have company."

"I'd be perfectly content with just the two of us for dinner every night," he told her, "but as it turns out, that won't be necessary." He gestured toward the carton he'd carried in.

Jean looked quizzically at him, then opened the box to reveal a new set of dinnerware, a beautiful pattern of tiny blue forget-me-nots on a white porcelain background. She laughed in delight and reached over to kiss him again.

"I thought I'd destroyed so many that it's only right I should get you a fresh set," he explained.

She knew he must have passed them on display in a shop window and bought them because he thought she would like them. That was her Lucien in a nutshell.

"They're lovely," she said. "Thank you. But if you want them to last, you'll need to tone down that smile of yours when I'm doing the washing up or I'll be dropping these, too."

He gave her the same smile, and it affected her in the same manner. "Then I'll get you another set," he growled and swept her up once again.

_Don't get me wrong_

_If I'm acting so distracted._

_I'm thinking about the fireworks _

_That go off when you smile._


	12. Into the Mystic - Van Morrison

_Warning: characters' deaths. Not kidding. Turn back now._

The room felt heavy. The bed felt heavy. The air felt heavy. Her body felt heavy. Everything felt heavy except her heart. That could never feel heavy while he stood beside her and smiled down at her. She looked up at him and returned the smile, only then noting the deep pain lines at the creases of his forehead and the corners of those beautiful eyes she had always loved so much.

"You didn't take your medication," she chided, her voice so hoarse she barely recognized it as her own. Each breath was laboured now. She had discarded the oxygen mask a final time so she could speak with him unfettered by machines.

"No," he admitted. "I wanted a clear head for this. For you, my darling."

She nodded. They both knew these were her last hours on earth. She was grateful he didn't try to convince her otherwise. She had so many things she needed to tell him, even though she suspected he knew them anyway. Still, she had to say them aloud.

"Thank you," she began.

"It isn't necessary. I'm the one who should be thanking you."

Her wrinkled and heavily veined hand, another thing she barely recognized, reached out to grasp his. "Thank you for keeping your promise, the one you made when you finally got back to me all those years ago."

"I promised I wouldn't make you a widow again," he said, bringing their joined hands to his mouth for a gentle kiss. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep it when they gave me my diagnosis."

The cancer. It had been a race between his cancer and her congestive heart failure. It looked like her heart would make her first to the finish line.

"But you did," she said. "Just one of the things to thank you for. It's been such a wonderful thirty years. The last one hasn't been great, but it's a small price to pay for the many years of happiness."

"I'd do it all again, every moment of it."

"Yes," she agreed. "Sometimes I remember the dreams I had as a child: romance, travel, a handsome husband, adventure. You made them all come true. Every one of them."

"It's been my absolute pleasure," he assured her. "My only dream since I've known you was to make you happy."

"You have. Oh, how you have." She tugged on their hands until he leaned down to kiss her lips. Even after all this time she had never tired of his kisses. As he sat back upright she saw a flash of pain cross his face. She remembered the oncologist had given him six months. That had been a year ago. The doctor had underestimated his will, and his stubbornness.

"I'm glad," he said. Tears had risen in his eyes, which brought them to her own.

"It's all right," she told him. "Soon there won't be any more pain, for either of us. No regrets, my love?"

"Not a one, except perhaps how long it took us to admit our love."

"No, not even that," Jean insisted. She paused to gasp for breath. "Our struggle to be together only made us appreciate what we had even more. We never _ever_ took our love for granted."

"Yes, you're right, as usual. I always said you were smarter than me."

"Smart enough to marry you," she agreed. "You're released from your promise now," she whispered. She closed her eyes momentarily, struggling again to draw in enough oxygen.

He held up the oxygen mask, but she shook her head. Instead she pursed her lips, indicating she wanted him to kiss her again.

Of course he obliged, and with a final sigh, she relaxed and let go. No more struggle, no more pain, no more heaviness.

The cardiac alarm brought nurses and doctors to her room. No hurry. They knew what it meant and they wanted to give her husband a few final minutes alone with her. When they did arrive, they found him draped over her body. A nurse rested a comforting hand upon his shoulder, only to find he was also gone. The two of them had passed within moments of each other, hands still clasped together and smiles on their faces.

_And I want to rock your gypsy soul,_

_Just like way back in the days of old,_

_And together we will float into the mystic. _


	13. Tighter - Fitz and the Tantrums

It was another one of those nights - all too common in the months that Lucien had been gone. Instead of her usual sherry, Jean had joined Matthew in a glass of whiskey, and now, after midnight had come and gone, she lay awake. Alone in the empty bed with only her regrets for company.

She knew it was the alcohol making her maudlin, but she couldn't stop her mind from going over and over the same things. Why hadn't she told him more often how much she loved him? He told her all the time, and not just in words. There were his little touches: to her shoulder, the small of her back, her forearm. There were the little gifts he would bring her for no reason except because he loved her. There was the way she would notice him looking at her like she was the centre of his universe.

Did he know he was the centre of her universe as well? Did he know how his smile could sometimes steal her breath away? Had she told him that just feeling his warm bulk beside her made her feel secure and comforted. She had always been able to see his love for her shining in his eyes, but could he see the same level of devotion in hers?

Why did she even need to wonder now? Why hadn't she said it in so many words at every opportunity? Why was she so foolish as to think they had all the time in the world for such things?

Disgusted with herself, she got out of bed, put on her dressing gown, and made her way to the kitchen to put the kettle on. It had just started to whistle when Matthew shuffled into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asked.

"No, I was up. Muscle cramp," he said, shaking his bad leg. "You?"

"Nothing, really. Just... regrets, I suppose."

Matthew winced. "That's worse than cramp."

Jean got out a second cup and poured the tea. They sat down together at the kitchen table, each lost in their own thoughts until Matthew noticed she was staring at what was still considered Lucien's place.

"Regrets about him?" Matthew asked quietly. He normally didn't pry, but this time of night fences tended to fall.

"Not about Lucien, about me," she admitted.

"You? Jean, you know he loved you beyond anything else in the world, don't you?"

She nodded. "Yes, I do know that. He told me all the time. I'm just wondering if he knew I felt the same for him."

Matthew was not a tactile person. Certainly not like Lucien in that regard. But now he put a hand over hers as it rested next to her cup. Surprised, she looked up at him. Only then did he speak. "He knew, Jean. I can tell you that for a fact. He couldn't quite believe it sometimes, but he knew."

Jean let out a breath. "Thank you, Matthew. Maybe I'll be able to sleep now."

"You go ahead. I'll wash up here."

Jean nodded her thanks. "There's a hot water bottle in the linen cabinet," she told him. "It might help with the cramp."

She made her way back to bed, settled herself, and then ran a hand over the sheet on the other side, Lucien's side. He had known how much she loved him. Regrets were no longer necessary, but she still missed him more than she could ever express. And if, by some miracle, he did come back to her, she would never tire of telling him just what he meant to her.

_Why didn't I_

_Hold you tighter than tighter_

_How could I be so wrong_

_You can't hold on_

_To what is already gone_

_Come back baby_


	14. Sweet Dreams - Eurythmics

_Author's Note: The last two chapters have been heavy and somewhat depressing. Here's something on the lighter side. Enjoy!_

The train ride from Melbourne to Ballarat seemed to take forever, Jean thought as she stared out the window. She supposed after traveling for four months (as glorious as the honeymoon had been) she was now ready to be home. To begin their real life as husband and wife.

She turned to Lucien, who was reading the paper, catching up on all the news they'd missed while they had been away. He always seemed to sense when she was studying him; he looked up to smile at her, then leaned in for an almost-chaste kiss. When she continued to scrutinise him, he said, "Is something wrong, my love? Do I need a trim?"

Smiling in return, she ran her fingers through his beard lovingly. "No, you're fine," she assured him. "I was just thinking about our honeymoon."

"Good thoughts, I hope?" He looked concerned.

"The loveliest of thoughts," she insisted. "It's just..."

"What? You know you can tell me anything."

"Yes, I know. One of the nicest benefits of being married. I was thinking that you arranged this entire trip around the things you thought I would enjoy, and of course I did enjoy them all. Immensely, in fact. But it was your honeymoon, too, Lucien. I was just wondering what you got out of it."

His eyes opened wide, and a wicked grin took over his features. "Well, the nights were quite wonderful," he pointed out. "Not to mention more than a few mornings. And afternoons. And evenings, too."

She chuckled with him and playfully swatted his arm. "Yes, quite wonderful indeed. But we could have had those at home. We didn't need to go halfway round the world and more for that. I'm serious, though. What did you get from our travels?"

"Seriously?" He paused a moment to put it into words. "I got to learn a lot about my new wife. I knew how brilliant you are, but I saw curiosity and insight and appreciation of beauty and so much to make me love you even more. And most of all, I got to see you gloriously happy, which was the most precious thing I could have hoped for from our honeymoon."

Jean sighed with love for this sweet man who was now her husband. "Not that I didn't love every moment of it, Lucien, and I wouldn't change it for anything, but it wasn't London or Paris or any of those other cities that made me so gloriously happy, it was sharing them with you."

She saw the tears rise in his eyes, as they did in her own, and there was nothing for it but to lean into his arms for another kiss.

_Sweet dreams are made of this._

_Who am I to disagree?_

_I travel the world and the seven seas._

_Everybody's looking for something._


	15. Such a Night - Dr John

_This is a scene from another AU I've been kicking around. What would their lives have been like if Jean and Lucien had met and become a couple when she was in her late teens, about the time she and Christopher got together in canon? There is no Christopher at all in this one, or Mei Lin, for that matter._

Lucien was annoyed. Yet again he'd caught Monika with another man. If she couldn't be faithful while Lucien was still in Ballarat, what would she get up to when he was at school halfway around the world? He'd told her he'd had enough and broken up with her. He could see by her smug smile that she was convinced he'd come crawling back, but that was never going to happen. Not again. He'd elected to come to the dance alone rather than give in to her whims.

He stood at the bar, drink in hand, surveying the dance floor, looking to see who might be available. His old friend Matthew was supposed to show up at some point. Apparently he'd been roped into bringing a young girl as a date, a friend of the family. Matthew had insisted he really didn't mind - she was a sweet girl and good company, and she wouldn't spend the whole evening chattering endlessly. Lucien had a vision of a shy, mousy girl with glasses and a distinct overbite, but Matthew would do his best to entertain her, that was the type of man he was.

Lucien turned to the bar and ordered another beer while he waited. With the dearth of attractive women here, he thought that as soon as Matthew had done his duty with this girl, they could drop her off at home, pick up a couple of bottles and go out to the lake to drink in peace.

He thanked the bartender and turned around just as Matthew walked in the door. With him was an absolutely stunning girl, with chestnut curls and sparkling eyes of stormy blue. Her emerald green dress hugged her body in all the right places, and the smile she wore as she looked around excitedly seemed to light up the whole room.

"Definitely not mousy," Lucien murmured to himself as he signaled to Matthew.

The pair approached him, and Lucien could see the girl scrutinising him just as he'd done to her.

"Blake," Matthew greeted him. "Jean, this is an old mate, Lucien Blake. Lucien, may I present Jean Randall, a friend of the family."

"Delighted to meet you, Jean," he said, taking her hand and holding it just a fraction longer than courtesy required.

"And you, Lucien," she replied. "Matthew mentioned your father is Doctor Blake?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," he admitted.

Jean frowned. "Doctor Blake was very kind when my mother was sick last year," she said, with a note of disapproval at his flippant response. "Being a doctor and helping people is a wonderful thing."

Ever the peacemaker, Matthew said, "Actually, Lucien is leaving soon to study medicine himself."

"Oh," said Jean, her frown disappearing. "Then I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Thank you." Lucien gave her his most winning smile. "Can I get the two of you something to drink?" He wondered if she was actually old enough to drink alcohol. "Or can I entice you out onto the dance floor, Jean?"

Her smile returned. "Yes, I'd like that," she said.

He looked to Matthew, who nodded to show he had no problem with it. In fact, he'd already caught the eye of Harriet Dumond, a girl he seemed to like, for what reasons Lucien would never understand. Leaving him to his own devices, Lucien escorted Jean onto the floor, and she stepped gracefully into his arms.

They shared three consecutive dances, during which Lucien learned Jean lived on a farm with her parents, a sister, and two brothers. She had just finished school and was working at the makeup counter in the department store. She would have liked to go on with her schooling, perhaps training as a secretary or a teacher, but her mother's illness had made that impossible.

When the band took a break, Lucien thought they should check on Matthew, but Jean nodded toward a corner of the room where Matthew was obviously flirting with Harriet. "I think I lost my date," she observed, without a trace of resentment.

"More fool, him," said Lucien. "If you'll allow me, I'm only too happy to fill in." He was thanking his lucky stars that Monika had not accompanied him. Jean was much more interesting, and, truth be told, much better looking as well.

"Thank you, that's very gallant of you," said Jean. "Do you think we could step outside for a few minutes? The cigarette smoke in here is giving me a headache."

"Certainly," said Lucien. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

With the band on their break, many other couples had had the same idea - there was a crush of people around the doorway outside and the noise was so loud it made conversation impossible.

Jean stood on tiptoe and craned her neck. Her chin pointed across the street toward the next block, where it seemed to be much quieter and nearly deserted. Nodding his agreement, Lucien used his wide shoulders and assured manner to lead the way through the crowd. When they reached the spot she had indicated, it was in fact much quieter and somewhat darker. Certainly more intimate, with the moon as the main source of light.

"Better?" he asked with a soft smile.

"Much," she agreed.

For a long moment they stood silent, gazing into each other's eyes. Finally Lucien broke the silence. "I like you, Jean," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Very much."

"I like you, too, Lucien," she responded in kind.

Inevitably they leaned toward each other for a gentle kiss.

In the back of his mind, Lucien reminded himself that he was due to leave for Edinburgh in just a few weeks. Not the best time to start a relationship. There was nothing for it but to be honest with her.

"I should remind you that, as Matthew said, I'll be leaving Ballarat for school in less than a month, but I'd really like to see you again while I'm here."

"I'd like that, too," said Jean. "As for going away, well, we can deal with that when it happens."

"Agreed." But Lucien felt deep inside that this wasn't just a fling with Jean. It was something much more important than that.

_Such a night, it's such a night._

_Sweet confusion under the moonlight._

_Such a night, such a night._

_To steal away, the time is right._

_Your eyes caught mine, and at a glance,_

_You let me know this was my chance._

_R.I.P Mac Rebennack, aka Dr. John_


	16. Spotlight (Oh Nostalgia) - Patrick Stump

_Author's Note: I always wanted to see the scene where Jean decided to run for city council. This is my take on how it might have happened._

Jean barely restrained herself from slamming the front door as she practically stomped inside. She was furious,and deeply needed to voice her frustration. As she had dearly hoped, Lucien was in his study and promptly emerged to find out what had upset her.

"Jean?" When he saw the look of anger and frustration she wore, he walked toward her with his arms open wide.

She gave herself up to his embrace, and for long minutes they just stood there, holding each other. Marriage had taught him a modicum of patience, and he was willing to wait until she was ready to pull back. When she finally began to do so, he dropped a kiss on her forehead.

"Now, tell me," he said, leading her into the kitchen where he put the kettle on to boil.

When they both had their cups in front of them, she took a deep breath and began. "I was at the bakery, you know, that new one that just opened."

"Ah, yes, the Patisserie Parisian. I was going to try them a few days ago, pick up something for tea, but there was a queue all the way out the door."

"I thought it would be worth the wait if they had those napoleons that you enjoyed so much when we were in Paris," said Jean.

"I take it they didn't have them," said Lucien. "You didn't have any parcels with you."

"They may well have had them, but I never reached the counter. While we were waiting in the queue I got to talking with Tilly Robinson. She had her baby with her, little Phillip?"

Lucien nodded that he remembered Tilly, who had tried in vain to abort the baby when its father Philippe had been murdered.

"Tilly had been to the park to get some fresh air for her and the baby, but when his nappy needed changing, she tried to do it on one of the benches and was told that was not allowed. So she went into the public toilets there, only to find there was no flat surface except the dirty floor to lay the baby down and change him. She had to lay her coat on that filthy floor so she could put Phillip on that. It's a disgrace."

Lucien agreed. "It shouldn't be all that difficult to put in a small table for just that purpose. After all, we encourage families with small children to take advantage of the park."

"That's right, and I said that to Tilly. Marilyn Hopkins overheard us and said it's even worse at City Hall. She needed a copy of the deed on her house, and since Michael was at work, she had to take little Clara with her. When Clara needed a nappy change there wasn't even room on the floor in the toilets. She had to lay her in the wash basin to change it, can you believe that?"

Lucien's experience in changing nappies was limited and long ago, but even he could imagine the difficulties of trying to do it in a sink. "It hardly seems right," he sympathised.

"It isn't right at all," said Jean. "I couldn't very well leave it at that, so I went right over to City Hall myself. As Adeline Campbell is the only woman on the City Council, I thought I'd take it up with her."

"And she was no help?" asked Lucien. "She never struck me as the maternal type."

"She was less than no help!" Jean declared. "She claimed that as the only female, she couldn't appear weak by addressing what are seen as 'women's issues'."

"I would say it's a family issue. And if she isn't going to try to make women's lives a little better, why did she bother to run for City Council in the first place?"

"That's pretty much exactly what I told her," said Jean indignantly.

"And?"

"And nothing! She claims her hands are tied." Jean shook her head, her ire rising once again, then suddenly she stopped and looked appraisingly at Lucien. "You know, there's an election coming up. You should run."

"Me?" He was astounded at her logic.

"Yes, you, Lucien. You'd be wonderful at campaigning for the position. You have a natural charm, you know."

"I also have a reputation. And I'm still seen as an outsider after having lived most of my life abroad," he reminded her. "No, if anyone is going to run, it should be you."

"I couldn't. Could I?" She had never even considered the idea.

"Why not? You're smart, brilliant even. Everyone knows you, and you know their problems and their issues. You're just what this town needs."

"Me. On the City Council. But I don't know anything about running for office."

"So you hire someone who does know about it, a campaign manager."

"They'll say I'm getting above my station again."

"Nonsense. You're a doctor's wife. Adeline Campbell is the wife of a property manager. No one says she's getting above her station." He reached forward to take her hands and look into her eyes. "You'd be brilliant as a City Councilor. Absolutely brilliant."

"You'd help me? Appear at campaign functions and such so they know you're in favour of the idea?"

"Just try to keep me away." He smiled. "My wife, the city councilor. Ballarat has no idea what's in store."

'_Cause they might try to tell you how you can live your life,_

_But don't, don't forget it's your right_

_To do whatever you like, you like,_

'_Cause you can be your own spotlight._

_You could be the star, you could shine so bright._

_You could be your own spotlight._


	17. Please forgive Me - Bryan Adams

Jean stood in her old room with its dormer window and stared out at the world, her hands clasped at her chest. It was nine months to the day since Lucien had left for Sydney, nine months that he'd been gone from her life. Nine months - the time it took for a new life to enter the world. But Jean didn't want a new life, she wanted the old one back.

Mornings waking up next to him, seeing her love for him reflected back to her in his eyes. Sometimes they'd make love, sometimes they'd just cuddle together and talk about the day ahead.

Their days were often busy, between the surgery, her work with the city council, and his with the police, not to mention housekeeping and, if there was an active case, his tests and experiments, which he was always eager to share with her.

The evenings were much slower-paced. They would share a drink with Matthew, talk about cases, or the news, or what they were reading. If there happened to be a quiz show on television, they'd leave Matthew to enjoy it in peace (without Lucien blurting out the answers) and retire to their studio/bedroom to listen to music and perhaps enjoy a dance or two before retiring.

And the nights, well, they had never lost their passion for each other, and after all the years of repressing their feelings, they were determined to express it now that they were free of guilt and pain and the disapproval of others.

Looking back over what she'd had, Jean knew it hadn't been perfect. There were still times that they irritated each other. But even then they never lost sight of how much they loved one another.

Matthew and Alice and even Mattie had told her that Lucien would not want her grieving for him, he would want her to live. She was trying to do that, but she couldn't get past the hole in her chest where her heart used to be. The emptiness she felt when she saw or heard or read something she knew would have made him laugh. The way she felt each time she heard the sound of the front door opening and waited for him to call out her name. But it was never him.

As she looked out over the treetops, thinking that the leaves seemed to have lost some of their colour (or maybe the world had grown a little dimmer without Lucien to brighten it), she saw a police car pull into the drive. But it wasn't a Ballarat Police Department vehicle. Was that Charlie Davis behind the wheel?

She hurried down the stairs and to the front door. When she opened it, she saw Charlie was at the passenger side and had opened the rear door to help someone get out. He looked up as she stepped out onto the porch, and she noted he had tears in his eyes, but with the largest smile on his face she'd ever seen him wear.

The passenger emerged, and almost as though she'd flown across the distance between them, she was hugging Lucien. Thinner, weaker, greyer, not looking at all healthy, but still her Lucien.

When she finally stepped back to get a better look at him, he nearly fell without her arms around him holding him up.

"Do you need help getting into the house, Doc?" Charlie asked.

"No, thank you, Charlie," he said. "I have everything I need right here."

When he looked at Jean, it was as though the earth had settled back into its rightful orbit. She could wait to find out what had happened to him, where he'd been, and how Charlie had come to find him, but for now, all that mattered was that he was back. She could begin living again.

_Please forgive me, I know not what I do._

_Please forgive me, I can't stop loving you._

_Don't deny me this pain I'm going through._

_Please forgive me if I can't stop loving you._


	18. The Way You Look Tonight-cast of Peter's

A/N: I think this is my favorite of all the so-called 'standards'.

Morning. Waking up with the other side of the bed empty. Was there anything that better reminded her how lonely she was without Lucien? With a sigh she pushed herself up and wandered over to her vanity to study herself in the mirror. It seemed she had more grey hairs every day now. And today she felt every one of her years.

It wasn't always like this. She remembered an evening in Vienna on their honeymoon. Lucien had taken her to an actual ball in honour of the Philharmonic. She wore the designer gown he'd insisted she let him buy for her in Paris. It was then she realised why he'd been so insistent. He wore a classic tuxedo, perfectly tailored, that showed off his broad shoulders in a way his everyday suits never did. His eyes sparkled with pleasure as they waltzed across the dance floor in the elegant, ornate palace ballroom. She felt like something out of a fairy tale, with the perfect Prince Charming holding her in his arms. At that moment she had vowed never to forget how happy she had felt on that night, looking into the eyes of her new husband. And she never had.

She was startled out of her lovely memories by the sound of the front door opening. Quiet footsteps made their way down the hall, and then the bedroom door opened. Lucien looked the way she had been feeling, only more so.

"Is it over?" she asked softly, hoping that the case that had consumed him for the past two weeks was finally at an end: the murder of a maid at the Tyneman mansion.

"Yes, he's in custody, and he confessed," said Lucien. "Would you believe it was actually the butler who did it?"

"I suppose it really isn't funny, that poor girl losing her life, but really? The butler did it?"

"Really," he confirmed, his eyes twinkling. "And what about you? What have you been up to?"

"Me? I was just looking at all my grey hairs."

"I love every single one of them, even though I'm afraid I caused most of them," he said, pulling her in for a kiss. "I've missed them, and you."

She traced the grey showing rather prominently at his temples as well. "I was remembering that ball we went to in Vienna on our honeymoon," she said. "Do you remember?"

"I remember how perfect you looked."

"You, too. I thought I might never be so happy again for the rest of my life. But I was wrong. I'm even happier now, growing old with you. I love you even more, just the way you look today."

There was nothing for it but to kiss him again.

_Someday when I'm old and grey_

_And I'm awfully low_

_I will feel a glow just thinking of you_

_Just the way you look tonight._


	19. It's the End of the World as We Know It-

Day 6 now. Almost a full week since it had all gone to hell, since they had begun life in the bunker with no idea of what the rest of the world looked like now. What had become of it.

Thankfully they still had plenty of supplies - food, water, batteries, medical necessities, fuel for the generator. They could probably last another three or four months if they had to, assuming no one else showed up. He knew Jean still held out hope that somehow Christopher and his family were still alive and could make it there. He fervently hoped she was right. Perhaps Christopher's military training would serve him well in this situation, but they would need to be extraordinarily lucky as well.

One of the more surprising things to Lucien in this new normal was that his claustrophobia had not put in an appearance. They were all suffering from cabin fever, of course, but he had experienced none of the sweating and hand tremors that he had expected in such a confined space. All in all he knew things could be a lot worse, and probably were for the vast majority of survivors.

He turned over in the bunk and draped an arm over Jean. He knew she was awake, since she slept almost as little as he did in this place. He could hear the soft murmur of Matthew's voice as it was currently his shift for monitoring the shortwave radio that they had agreed would be kept on constantly despite the power it required. Any news they could get of what was happening above them would be vital in deciding when it might be relatively safe to leave here.

"I think he's speaking with Rose again," Jean said softly. "Trying to get news of his sister."

Lucien pulled Jean more securely into his arms. So many people they cared about might have been lost. He'd tried to warn them all, tell them to prepare as he and Jean had prepared, but too many of them refused to believe it or didn't want to. He knew Mei Lin and Li's family were safe, he'd heard from them a few days before, and the Parks family were also secure. And Jack was twenty feet away, after only showing up in Ballarat at Jean's insistence. He had planned to try to talk sense into her about believing such nonsense, when the nonsense had suddenly become reality.

But the others, Mattie, Charlie, Cec, too many to count, there was no way to know who had survived. He knew it was selfish of him, but he was more grateful than he could ever express that Jean, his sensible, no-nonsense Jean, had believed him and was now safe beside him. And her advocacy had been what convinced Matthew and Alice to take the warnings seriously. Unfortunately Christopher had waited a day too long before setting out to join them here, and now, well, they might never learn his fate.

He kissed Jean tenderly on the forehead, knowing how heavily it weighed on her mind. Somehow she blamed herself that she hadn't been able to get Christopher here in time. He didn't know how to make her feel any better about it. He had thought he might promise her they would make it a priority to learn his fate when they finally left the bunker, but that might dash whatever small hope she retained.

"Almost time for the morning news," he said, looking at his watch. Jack had managed to find a source on the shortwave that claimed to be getting news of what was going on outside Australia. They couldn't be sure how reliable it was, but they all listened to it every morning nonetheless.

Lucien rolled off the bunk and pulled on his clothes as Jean did the same. "I hope Matthew has the kettle on," he remarked.

"Matthew does have the kettle on," said Matthew himself. "Good morning."

"Good morning," said Jean, "and thank you."

He was about to reply when the conversation was interrupted by a banging noise on the bunker's overhead hatch.

Both Lucien and Matthew immediately reached for their service revolvers. They all listened intently as the banging became a pattern.

"That's the signal," Jack said softly.

Jean's eyes widened. Lucien knew she thought it must be Christopher, but both he and Matthew knew it could just as easily be someone who'd come across the Beazley family and forced them to reveal everything about their destination.

Looking behind him to be sure that Jean and Alice were out of the line of fire, Lucien nodded to Jack to crack the door open while he and Matthew covered him. Jack took a deep breath and slowly maneuvered the heavy latch that secured the thick steel door in place. He opened it just enough to peer through, then threw it wide open. Christopher was unsteady on his feet, bleeding from a head wound, and all three of them were dusty and dirty, but they were very much alive. They stumbled through quickly, and Jack slammed the door shut and refastened the latch.

Jean cried tears of joy as she hugged Christopher, Ruby and little Amelia. Looking on, Lucien reflected that although the world would never be the same, those closest to him, those Jean loved the best, were safe for now at least. He could live with that.

_It's the end of the world as we know it_

_It's the end of the world as we know it_

_It's the end of the world as we know it_

_And I feel fine._

* * *

Author's Note: Two genres I've always loved are time travel and post-apocalyptic dystopia. This is my attempt at the latter. Perhaps I'll try the former at some point as well.


	20. Here Comes the Sun - Nina Simone

_This takes place in my Lukeverse AU_

Jean stood in the doorway of her son's bedroom, gazing fondly at the stuffed bear, the toy train, the wooden lorries and cars, and the shelf of colourful storybooks. She missed his presence. In fact, the house itself seemed to miss Luke in the four days he'd been gone.

She knew a tonsillectomy wasn't a major surgical procedure, many children had it performed, but it was the first time a child of hers had required it. She had panicked when Lucien had told her Luke's sore throat was, in fact, tonsillitis. The news that Lucien would not do the surgery himself made her even more frightened, despite knowing that an operation on one's own family was not recommended. No matter how talented the other surgeon was, she knew no one would fight to keep Luke safe like his father would.

Of course, her fears had been unfounded. Everything had gone smoothly, and as she sat by his bedside afterwards and watched those big blue eyes open to meet her gaze, she offered up a prayer of thanks.

Now after four days of hospital food and icy poles to soothe his throat, Luke was coming home. Lucien had stopped in to check on the boy after seeing a patient, and he deemed his son ready for release. He'd called Jean to let her know they were on the way.

She shook herself from her reverie and quickly made up the bed with fresh sheets for his arrival. She had already cooked a pot of custard and poured it into an ice cube tray so it would be cold and ready for him.

She was just going back downstairs when she heard Lucien's car pull into the drive. Although she had spent the entire length of visiting hours with him just the day before, she felt like it had been forever since she'd seen Luke. She supposed she needed to get used to not having him here all day, since he'd be starting school soon enough, but for now she cherished every moment of his presence, this blessing that she and Lucien had created and cherished beyond measure.

She hurried out the door, not bothering with her coat despite the chill of early spring in the air. Her only thought was that their boy was home, where he belonged.

Jean was relieved to see that Lucien had bundled him up, complete with scarf tucked around his still-tender throat, but then she watched him climb out of the car and run toward her. She spread her arms wide and scooped him up as he launched himself at her.

"Mum! I'm so happy to see you!" he said.

"And I'm so happy to have you home," she told him, hugging him tightly. Her eyes met Lucien's over the top of his head, and the two of them shared a smile. All was right in their world once again.

_Little darling, it's been a long, cold, lonely winter._

_Little darling, it seems like years since you've been here._

_Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,_

_And I say, it's all right._


	21. Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi

_This one was requested by the wonderful writer NancyMay, who is also one of the most faithful reviewers in this fandom. Thank you for introducing me to a lovely song. I hope this meets your expectations._

Jean stood in Lucien's study, looking out the window at the setting sun. She faced another evening of listening to the wireless alone with her knitting. Mattie was out with a boyfriend, and Danny was on late duty. It was evenings like this when she missed Lucien's company the most since he'd left for Shanghai to see his daughter.

Feeling more than a bit melancholy, she poured two fingers of Lucien's whiskey into one of his lovely cut-glass tumblers and held it up to the light before taking a deep drink.

He had been gone much longer than she had expected. Earlier in the day when she'd been at the shops she'd heard remarks (not for the first time) that she was foolish to think he'd be coming back at all. Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if she _was_ being foolish for believing he'd come back as he said he would. It was then she had to admit to herself just how much he had come to mean to her. Oh, yes, she missed his companionship and the discussions they would often have in the evenings, but since he'd been gone she had slowly come to the conclusion that it was much more than that. She missed the little touches to her hand or her forearm or the small of her back. She missed the sparkle in his eyes when he shared his delight in something he'd read or heard. She missed the way he genuinely respected her opinion. And sometimes, when she caught him looking at her, she thought that just maybe he felt something for her as well.

And then there was the note he left. Whenever the doubts surfaced, she would pull it out and read it again, particularly the last part.

'I have found a place of light in the darkness. I have found my home. Thank you for caring, and for being my friend. For the first time in a very long time this feels like the beginning and not the end.

Yours with much affection,

Lucien'

With much affection. Did he mean that? Maybe he was just being polite. For all his brilliance, Lucien had a limited attention span. Did he reach Shanghai and decide his affection for his daughter was all that mattered? Was he even now looking for a way to break the news to her and Mattie and Danny that he wouldn't be coming back after all?

She would lose her home and her job, but as much as she enjoyed them, those could both replaced. But how could she replace what Lucien had come to mean to her?

She was about to pour herself another drink and surrender to her melancholy when the doorbell rang. Well, at least she knew it wasn't a patient. With a sigh, she set down the glass and headed to the front door.

When she saw Teddy Brown from the telegraph office, her heart leapt into her throat. It had to be from Lucien. She handed the boy a few coins then went inside to learn her fate.

'Arriving tomorrow on late bus stop good to be home stop Lucien"

She couldn't contain the smile that spread across her face or the joy that filled her chest. She would be there to meet that bus and to welcome him home.

_Now the day bleeds into nightfall_

_And you're not here to get me through it all_


	22. Right Place, Wrong Time - Dr John

Lucien shook his head to clear the momentary disorientation that always accompanied a jump in time and place. He straightened his clothing - the smock-like shirt and loose trousers that were appropriate attire for 14th century France - and used his fingers to comb through his hair and beard, making them appear somewhat rougher and disheveled. He knew the locals were sure to question his accent and vocabulary. After all, he didn't exactly have anyone to consult on dialect and inflections of the time and and place, but he could easily attribute the differences to having been raised in Brittany. Few people in this time ventured far beyond the borders of their home towns, so there was little likelihood that he would meet someone who knew how a man from Brittany should actually sound.

He glanced at his gold pocket chronometer. Jean was due to appear at any moment now, as she usually made her jump a few minutes after him, giving him time to be sure that the location was secure before following him there.

They had chosen as a landing site a hilltop in what would later become the artistic haven of Montmartre, but which now looked out over sweeping farmland and vineyards. From this spot he could see the newly-built Notre Dame de Paris lying on the eastern end of the Île de la Cité, still surrounded by scaffolding where various porches and other embellishments were being added. He knew how much Jean would enjoy seeing it.

Speaking of whom, he glanced again at the chronometer. She should be here by now, he thought. She must have been held up by something. While he waited, Lucien studied the rest of their surroundings. The church of Saint-Pierre de Montmartre and the Royal Abbey were at his back as he gazed down upon Paris, trying to pick out any landmarks that would help them navigate once they entered the city walls. He saw where the Arc de Triomphe would one day stand, as well as the future site of the Tour Eiffel. The Louvre castle stood where the museum would in future be built.

Cargo ships moved along the Seine in place of the tourist ferries of his own time, and docks and wharves lined both banks. Stalls selling wares from the ships surrounded the docks, and Lucien was reminded that Paris had originally thrived as a port city.

Yet again he checked the chronometer, beginning to feel somewhat unnerved that Jean had not appeared. Had something gone wrong? Had he gotten the time wrong? Had she arrived at sometime in the past or the future? He knew he was in the right place, exactly on the site of the future nightclub where they would see Nina Simone perform on their second honeymoon trip to Paris. But they were here to research the Black Death, which occurred over several years, so it was entirely possible that they might be in this place at different times.

Protocol required that he wait at least 24 hours before abandoning the assignment, but he hated the thought of Jean managing on her own in this dangerous time in history. Strangers were not exactly welcomed when anyone might be carrying the devastating disease, and although they'd both received prophylactics against it when they'd agreed to this mission, the people of this time had a number of wild theories about what caused it, and they were quick to punish anyone they saw as a threat.

Lucien grew more and more worried as time passed with no sign of his wife. He had just about determined to call a halt to it and jump back to his own time when he heard the faint whine that signaled an incoming jumper. The air sparkled and wavered slightly, and then Jean suddenly was in front of him. When she had fully materialized, he put a hand under her elbow to steady her while she shook off the effects.

"I'm so sorry, Lucien," she told him. "I know how worried you must have been when I was late."

"I was just about to call it off. What happened?"

She sighed. "What always happens? The telephone rang."

_I been in the right place, _

_but it must have been the wrong time_

_A/N: So now I can cross the time travel fic off my bucket list._


	23. I Keep Forgetting - Michael McDonald

He knew she was right: Jean was always right. Mei Lin's appearance had changed things between the two of them, perhaps irrevocably. He was a married man now. It didn't matter that he hadn't seen his wife in more than fifteen years. It didn't matter that he'd been informed she was dead. It didn't even matter that they were virtually strangers now, tiptoeing around each other like two people who'd only just been introduced. The law, and just as importantly, the Church said they were husband and wife.

But his heart said otherwise. His heart was bound to Jean, and no sacrament or marriage certificate could alter that. Oh, he was happy that Mei Lin had survived the war. He could never wish her ill, no matter how much it complicated matters for him. He was still fond of her, and he would do all he could to help her build a new life for herself, but he could never be a real part of that life.

He had spent so many years wandering in darkness, not caring much about anything other than learning the fate of his family. When he found Li, he thought that would change, but then the daughter he adored made it clear there was no longer room for him in her life. She had no need of a father now. She had not been the light to show him the way out of the darkness.

No, that light had been Jean. Brilliant, capable, beautiful Jean. She was the one who made him want to be a better man. With Jean beside him, he no longer felt the need to escape into a whiskey bottle, to provoke fights, to challenge everything and everyone. He had learned to enjoy the life they'd made for themselves in this house despite all its ghosts from the past.

And now, here they were. Things that had been so easy, so natural, were now forbidden to him. He couldn't touch her arm or kiss her forehead in appreciation of her help. He knew she was right, that things had changed between them. It was just that when he was close to her, all of that seemed to fly out the window. He only knew how his heart felt about her. Somehow he had to find a way out of this. Fate may have thrown yet another obstacle in their path, but he had defied fate before. He would do it again. He would follow his heart.

_I keep forgetting we're not in love any more._

_I keep forgetting things can never be the same again._

_I keep forgetting how you made that so clear._

_I keep forgetting, every time you're near._


	24. All This Time - Sting

_This one is a bit longer than most of these. I hope you don't mind._

"I'm afraid it won't be long now," Lucien said quietly, looking up from the stethoscope he held over his father's chest.

"I should call Father Morton, then," said the housekeeper, Mrs. Beazley.

"Is that necessary?" Lucien asked somewhat peevishly. He'd been traveling for most of the day, only to arrive at this house with all its ghosts and find his father was too far gone to even speak with him. No chance of absolution or even reconciliation with the old man.

Mrs. Beazley glared at him. "Yes, it is," she snapped. Then, as if suddenly remembering their relative positions in this situation, she softened her voice. "Your father deserves the Last Rites, Doctor."

"Lucien," he said mechanically, for at least the third time in the few hours since he'd met her. God, he needed a drink and a bed, but he knew it would be a while before he saw either. Death was always a messy and protracted business.

She shot him another look before sighing. "_Lucien,_ he may not have been able to attend mass since the stroke, but Doctor Blake was a practicing Catholic. He would want this. It might be the last thing we can do for him."

He smoothed down the hair along the back of his head. It was probably easier just to give in. "Yes, all right, Mrs. Beazley. Call the priest," he told her as gracefully as he could manage.

"Thank you, Lucien. And it's Jean," she said before walking from the room.

He watched her go, marveling yet again that this beautiful woman who walked like Lana Turner was his father's housekeeper. He wondered about her story. And what would become of her with his father's passing.

Two priests arrived, as if one wouldn't have been bad enough, and they were everything Lucien had feared they would be. The older one, Father Morton, recognized him from his childhood days of attending mass at Sacred Heart with his parents. The other, a much younger man whose name Lucien hadn't caught and couldn't be bothered to ask, seemed to be performing this particular sacrament for the first time. Despite Lucien's intimate involvement in the situation and his utter disdain for much of the Church's beliefs, he couldn't help but watch curiously as this ancient ritual was performed in the ancient language. His Latin was a little rusty, but he could make out most of the prayers that were recited somewhat haltingly by the young man. The prayers were innocuous enough, he supposed. It was all the rigmarole with the oils that annoyed him. Was that so the old man could slip through the devil's grasp? As he watched it all he couldn't help but wonder if his father was aware of any of this.

Just as the priests were finishing up and putting away their oils and stoles, the elder Doctor Blake opened his eyes. He spotted Jean first, and his eyes softened when she gave him a watery smile. Next he saw Father Morton and his assistant, and the eyes widened as he must have recognized why they were present. Then he looked around frantically until his gaze settled on Lucien. The request in his eyes was clear.

Lucien stepped closer and slid into the chair at the old man's bedside. He took his hand and squeezed it despite not knowing if his father could even feel it.

Across the room Jean cleared her throat. "Fathers, would you like a cup of tea before you go?" she asked.

Silently Lucien blessed her for her discretion in knowing father and son wanted a last moment of privacy. The priests declined the offer but followed her from the room nonetheless.

Lucien saw his father's eyes watching her as she walked out. "She's really something, your Mrs. Beazley," Lucien said.

The old man's eyes snapped to meet his while seemingly nodding toward the door.

"You want me to call her back?" Lucien asked, but clearly that wasn't what his father meant. Again he looked at Lucien, then at the door through which Jean had disappeared.

Lucien thought for a moment. "You want me to see that she's looked after?" he asked.

That didn't seem to be exactly what the old man meant, but it was close enough apparently.

Lucien had no intention of staying in Ballarat any longer than it would take to see his father buried and his affairs put in order, but he supposed there was no good reason the old man needed to know that. He could certainly write a glowing letter of reference for the redoubtable Mrs. Beazley at least. That would have to suffice. "I'll do what I can for her, Dad," he assured him.

He was trying to think how to begin addressing the situation between the two of them when a sort of choking, gurgling noise came from the old man's throat and his eyes started to become glassy. Quickly Lucien felt for a pulse, but there was none.

Typical, thought Lucien. His father always had time to see to other people's welfare, but never any time for his son. With a sigh, he stood and used his fingertips to close the eyes that had never shown him the least bit of approval. Too late now. He pulled the sheet up to cover the old man's face. Death brought a kind of respect that Lucien could never feel during the man's lifetime.

He stood up, suddenly feeling the weight of his own years. He ran a hand over his face in weariness, then went out to break the news to Mrs. Beazley. Jean. At least he could have that drink now.

He found her in the foyer, where she had just finished showing the priests out.

"Is he...?" she began when she saw Lucien.

He nodded. "I'm sorry, Jean."

The tears that had been gathering in her eyes since she'd sent for the priest now spilled over. Delicately she used her manicured fingers to wipe them away. "You have my deepest sympathies, Lucien," she managed.

He suspected she was more upset than he was at the moment, but he knew the real reaction would hit him later, probably sometime in the depths of the night. Right now he would offer her what little comfort he could. She had earned that. Tentatively he moved toward her, and she let him hold her for just a minute. Then she stepped back and seemed to get control of herself.

"I should call the funeral home," she said, her voice a bit hoarse.

"It's very late," he pointed out. "Surely that can wait until morning."

"Yes, I suppose it can," she admitted, clearly at a loss as to what to do now. She seemed to be a woman who didn't much care for being at loose ends. Perhaps she had demons of her own that visited when she was idle, with nothing to keep them at bay. He could certainly understand that.

"I thought you might like to join me in a drink," he said. "A toast to the old man."

"All right," she said. He knew she could hardly refuse without insulting his memory.

The drinks cart was just where he remembered it, with a fleeting thought of the time he'd nicked a half-full bottle of Bombay Gin as a teenager and become ill after drinking it neat with a couple of friends.

He looked over what was currently on offer. "Whiskey? Or sherry, perhaps?" he asked, holding up the two bottles.

"Whiskey tonight, I think," she said, surprising him.

He poured out a couple fingers for each of them as she perched on the armchair. He handed her one of the glasses, and sat facing her on the couch.

She held the glass out in front of her. "To Doctor Blake, may he rest in peace," she toasted.

"To Dad," he said, likewise holding up his glass and touching it to hers.

They sipped the scotch in silence, studying each other while trying to appear not to.

At last she spoke. "What will you do now, Lucien?"

He knew she was really wondering about his plans for the future, and he couldn't really blame her. She needed to know what it all meant for her own future.

It made him think, though. Now that he'd left the army, there really wasn't much for him back in Hong Kong or Singapore. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Mister Kim, whose search for news of Mei Lin and Li continued, could contact him just as easily here as anywhere else. He should at least stick around long enough to close up his father's practice and see that his patients were transitioned to other local physicians. He supposed he could even tend to them until the changeover was accomplished. After that, well, he'd see how it all went.

In answer to Jean's question, he said, "It looks like I'll need to stay here for a few weeks at least."

He could see her relax. That would give her time to look for a new position without rushing into anything, he expected.

"If there's anything I can do in the meantime," she offered.

"Thank you, Jean. I'll let you know."

She nodded, satisfied. He admitted to himself that he found her to be a fascinating woman. Maybe in the weeks ahead he would get to know her better, find out what made her tick. He expected he just might enjoy the challenge.

_Two priests came 'round our house tonight_

_One young, one old, to offer prayers for the dying, to serve the final rite_

_One to learn, one to teach which way the cold wind blows _

_And fussing and flapping in priestly black like a murder of crows_


	25. Killer Queen - Queen

Jean sat beside Lucien in the car, twisting her hands nervously around the handle of her purse. She hadn't liked to admit it, but his Auntie Dorothy intimidated her to no small degree. For as long as she could remember, Dorothy Lucas had led the richest, most powerful family in Ballarat. Yes, it was Lucien's family, too, but of course the elder Doctor Blake had chosen the wife he loved over the family wealth and power.

Now they were on their way to the Colonists Club, where Mrs. Lucas was causing a scene.

"What exactly did Cec say?" Lucien asked, glancing over at her. He must have figured out how she felt about his aunt because he reached over to squeeze her hand reassuringly.

Jean smiled at his thoughtfulness. "He said she walked in alone and on into the dining room. When he told her it was against club rules for her to be there on her own, she told him she's been paying her husband's dues every year since his death, and she dared anybody to stop her."

"That sounds like her," said Lucien.

"Then she ordered an expensive bottle of champagne, and she'd just about finished it all by the time Cec called. He said he couldn't very well throw her out into the street, so he hoped you might be able to help."

"We can try, at least," said Lucien. He was silent for a moment. "Jean, do you remember when I caused such a row hanging that painting in the club?"

"Are you saying causing trouble runs in the family?" Jean asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

Lucien laughed. "You may be right about that, but I was thinking of something Patrick Tyneman said at the time. I'd insisted that sooner or later the club would have to admit women. Patrick said it would only happen over his dead body."

"And now your Auntie Dorothy is insisting on being admitted, no matter what Patrick says."

Jean and Lucien managed to get Dorothy Lucas to leave the club, but too late. Patrick Tyneman's car was pulled from Lake Wendouree early the next morning. He'd been dead for several hours.

_She keeps Moët and Chandon in a pretty cabinet_

"_Let them eat cake," she says, just like Marie Antoinette _

* * *

_Author's Note: For those of you following my current stories, 'Freedom' and 'Blues', I apologize for the delay, but my laptop quit. I can write short pieces like this on my tablet but I need the laptop for the larger works. I hope to be back in business by the weekend._


	26. Bridge Over Troubled Waters-Simon&Garfun

Jean watched her son walk away, his back stiff and his jaw jutting out angrily. He looked so much like his father that all she could see was Christopher leaving to enlist in the Army. Tears rose in her eyes as she wondered if she'd ever see Jack again. Was he, like his father, now lost to her for good?

She retreated to her sanctuary, the sunroom. At first she tried to get something done, repotting or deadheading, but eventually she gave up the attempt. It wasn't actually taking her mind off what had just happened anyway. Instead she stood in the center of the space, letting her anguish wash over her.

Dimly she was aware of the sound of Lucien's car pulling into the drive. She tried to pull herself together as she heard the murmur of voices, not wanting Lucien to see her so upset. She had her pride after all, and falling to pieces in front of her employer was not very professional. She pulled on her gardening gloves and began to putter around with her geraniums, plastering a smile on her face.

When Lucien appeared, his eyes soft with compassion, she was forced to admit to herself he was more than just her employer. Her friend, surely, and she valued that friendship highly. Was there something more? She sometimes thought there might be, especially when he looked at her the way he was now.

And when he told her this was her home, and that Jack would always be welcome there, she couldn't stop the tears from falling. She knew she had lost Jack just as surely as she had lost Christopher. Then Lucien reached out a hand to rest on her arm in comfort, and she lost her composure completely. Before she realized it, she was in his arms. His broad hands rested on her back as she sobbed against his strong shoulder. She hadn't had this kind of comfort, leaned into this kind of strength, since Christopher had left for the war.

For a long moment she allowed herself to take advantage of what Lucien offered, and then, suddenly, there was a shift between them. That 'something more' she'd wondered about was plainly written on his face, and she could feel it herself as she looked into his eyes.

Before it could go further, though, the spell cast over them was broken by the sound of of the telephone. She wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse, but she stepped back and quickly went to answer it. The moment had passed, but the memory of how it felt to be in his arms would not be easily dismissed.

_When you're weary, feeling small_

_When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all_

_I'm on your side_


	27. Love, Look What You've Done-Boz Scaggs

_This one is the same scene as the last one, but from Lucien's point of view_

He spoke to Mattie, learning that Jack had been and gone, leaving his mother alone after what she'd just been through in his defense. He knew how she must be feeling. His own daughter had made it clear she didn't need him despite how much he loved her.

He went to the sunroom, pausing to look through the window before entering. Jean was puttering around with her plants, a strained smile affixed painfully on her lovely face. His heart ached for her.

He did his best to reassure her, longing to make her feel better, but it didn't seem to be working at all. And then when he touched her arm in a gesture of comfort, she finally let the tears fall. There was nothing for it but to take her into his arms.

It was then, holding her as she sobbed on his shoulder, that he realized the truth. She had become much more to him than a housekeeper, a friend and an assistant. She had become an essential part of his life. She had become dear to him. Despite his longstanding determination not to allow himself to love again as deeply as he had once loved Mei Lin (only to find she had given herself to his best friend) he had just discovered he loved Jean. Not quite in the same way he had loved Mei Lin, but just as deeply, just as fully.

When Jean stepped back to look up at him, he could see something similar in her eyes. It was tentative, like a child's first halting steps, but there was also a determination. Lucien thought she was probably the strongest woman he'd ever known, but even she could be daunted by the prospect of love.

With a careful hesitation on both their parts, they leaned in toward each other, but before their lips met, the shrill jangling of the telephone startled them both, and they pulled back as though they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't.

Lucien wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed, but one thing was certain - there was something between between them, whether he was ready for it or not. He was reminded of an old French saying - the heart has reasons that reason knows nothing of.

_Love, look what you've done to me_

_Never thought I'd fall again so easily_

_Oh, love, you wouldn't lie to me, would you?_

_Leading me to feel this way_


	28. It Makes No Difference - The Band

With one last look around the area, hoping against hope that she'd spot Lucien, Jean finally climbed the steps onto the bus bound for Adelaide. It was time to admit that he wasn't coming, that she may well have seen him for the last time.

Oh, she knew he was busy, consumed even by the case that he was certain had a link to his mother's death. She understood that. Just one of the things she loved about him was his passion and the way he threw himself into getting to the truth, finding justice for those who needed it.

She'd only ever wanted a little of that attention for herself. When he'd shown up at her hotel with the scones he'd made, she thought that might be his way of telling her what she meant to him. After all, he'd actually paid attention when she'd told him she didn't like the ones at the hotel. But then he'd spent the whole time with her picking her brain about the case. Was that what he valued about her?

She supposed it was better that he valued her for her mind than for her vacuuming or dish washing skills, but she wanted more. She wanted to be valued for who she was. All of her. The way she valued him. The way she loved him.

When he'd caught up with her outside the house, she'd been ready to tell him how she felt if he'd shown any indication that he felt the same way, but he'd been almost tongue-tied as he tried to explain himself. Certainly that was uncharacteristic of the usually glib man, but it wasn't enough. All she'd wanted was just a glimpse, something to indicate how he felt. No grand gesture required, just _anything _substantial.

But now it was too late. She was on her way to Adelaide and out of his life. She'd made up her mind this was what she wanted. No one had forced her into it, after all. She was on her way to her family. And yet it felt distinctly like she was leaving her family behind. She already missed them all, but _him _in particular. It was going to be a long, lonely bus ride.

She settled into her seat, thinking she'd just watch the scenery go past for a while before she tried to concentrate on the book she'd brought along. Very abruptly though the scenery stopped short as the bus came to a halt, and they weren't even out of Ballarat.

Jean looked up to the front, wondering what was going on, when she saw the doors open. Suddenly there he was, seeming to fill the whole space up ahead as his eyes sought hers. Grand gesture indeed!

Her heart was racing as he held her gaze all the while he walked up the aisle toward her. She slid over to make room for him. He sat and immediately reached his hand out to take hers. She clasped his tightly, wanted nothing more than to hold on and assure herself he was real, that he had come just as she'd wanted so desperately.

"Jean," he began, but she cut him off. There would be plenty of time for them to talk, but right now she just wanted to enjoy his presence. He seemed to understand as he put his arm around her and she leaned into him. This, _this, _was all she needed to know.

_Well, I love you so much that it's all I can do_

_Just to keep myself from telling you_

_That I've never felt so alone before_


	29. Ticket to Ride - Beatles

Lucien watched as Patrick Tyneman escorted his damaged son from the station house. Edward had been cleared of the crime of murder.

William Munro was in custody and would face charges of corruption and obstruction of justice.

Doug Ashby was dead, and Jock Clement was in jail for killing him, even though he would never be charged with the first murder he'd committed, that of Genevieve Etienne Blake forty years earlier.

It had been a physically and emotionally exhausting day, and Lucien felt that he could finally catch his breath for the first time since he'd left the house that morning. The house...

Then it hit him that Jean's bus would be leaving for Adelaide this very afternoon. He glanced at the clock. In fact, it would be leaving momentarily. He had hoped to see her off, and maybe find a way to tell her, well, tell her that he understood her need to help her son (just as he would drop everything if Li requested his assistance), but that Jean would always have not just a job but a _home_ here with him in Ballarat.

He shook his head. No, that wasn't enough. He had to tell her more. He had to tell her that home wasn't only in his house, but also in his heart. He had to make her understand how important she was to him, and not just for her housekeeping skills or her cooking or even her invaluable assistance in solving cases. It was her kindness, her bravery, her sense of fairness, her sheer brilliance, all the things about her that made him want to be a better man, to make her proud of him.

He couldn't begin to imagine how empty his life would be once again without Jean in it. She filled in all the cracks in his soul that had opened when he'd put Mei Lin and Li on that boat out of Singapore all those years ago. Cracks that had widened to gaping fissures that no amount of whiskey or risk-taking could ever mend. But somehow Jean had mended them.

He wasn't completely sure how she felt about him, but he knew for a certainty that the only way he'd ever find out was if he told her first. He was often clueless about the power dynamics of society, but even he realized that as his "employee" (not a way he'd actually thought of her for a very long time) Jean was not in a position to initiate such a conversation. It had to start with him. But first he would have to get to her. Before she left him for good.

He sprinted up the stairs and out of the station, not even pausing to grab his hat. The bus station was two streets over. Run. _Run!_

He burst out of the side street just as a bus was passing him. It had to be Jean's bus. Abandoning all dignity, he waving frantically until he caught the driver's attention. _Yes! It was pulling to a stop._

Lucien hurried over when the door was opened, and he climbed aboard. As if drawn by magnetic force, his eyes immediately locked with Jean's, which had widened in surprise at his sudden appearance. Surprise or not, she slid over on the seat to make room for him, which was certainly a relief to Lucien.

He reached for her hand, and she gripped his tightly.

"Jean, I..." he began, but she hushed him.

For a second he thought he'd misread her entirely, but when he tentatively lifted an arm to place around her, she not only allowed it, she leaned her head against his shoulder. He could feel her trembling slightly, but he was fairly sure it was not in anger or fear, merely the intensity of the moment.

He would give her the time she needed to adjust. And when she was ready to listen, he would find the words to tell her what was in his heart.

_I think I'm gonna be sad, I think it's today, yeah_

_The girl that's driving me mad is going away_

_She's got a ticket to ride._


	30. Two Against one - Danger Mouse

Author's Note: This one takes place during Season 1 Episode 10, "Someone's Son, Someone's Daughter"

* * *

Lucien watched with dismay as Jean, having concluded her tirade at him, walked out of the room. A moment later he heard the front door close firmly.

He sighed. He knew he deserved it. He'd even told her once that he needed her around to give him a good talking-to from time to time, and he'd certainly earned it this time, with the way he'd gone after Geoffrey Nicholson before he had all the facts.

The part that really hurt, though, was Jean bringing his father into her castigation. Oh, yes, Doctor Thomas Blake, the ultimate paragon of virtue. The paternal figure to everyone but his own son. Lucien could tell Jean a thing or two about the kindly old physician.

He sighed again. What good would that do anyone? The old hypocrite was dead and buried, and spoiling Jean's memories of him would only hurt her unnecessarily.

He felt dirty just thinking about doing such a thing. He went into the bathroom to splash water on his face. Standing in front of the mirror, he could barely abide looking at himself. "Well done, Blake," he told his reflection sarcastically. "Now you've managed to drive away the one person who's always been on your side. It would serve you right if she walked out for good."

Turning away in disgust at himself, he heard the front door. Had she come back? Not that he deserved another chance, but he hoped with all his heart that she'd give him just one more. Maybe this time he could really pull himself together and make her proud to work for him, just as she's been proud to work for his father.

When he saw that it was Matthew at the door instea, Lucien did his best not to show disappointment. A night of drinking with his friend was some consolation at least. And in the morning he'd do his best to set things right with Jean, if she'd let him.

_One, I get the feeling that it's two against one._

_I'm already fighting me, so what's another one?_

_The mirror is a trigger and your mouth's a gun._

_Lucky for me I'm not the only one._

_Lucky for me I'm not the only one._


	31. Just Give Me a Reason - P nk

Jean smiled up at her brand new husband as he held her in his arms for their first dance as man and wife. It had been such a long and perilous journey for them to reach this point, but now she didn't think it was possible to be happier.

She couldn't help but reflect on their somewhat rocky beginning. Rockier for Lucien, most likely. She had to admit she'd been drawn to him from the moment he'd appeared on the doorstep, looking rumpled and travel-weary, but when he focused those amazingly blue eyes on her, questioning her presence in his father's house, she felt her heart flip precipitously.

It wasn't something that was done, falling in love with one's employer, and so she tried to put him off. She showed him the sharp side of her tongue, more often than was appropriate for a woman in her position no matter how his drinking and defiance of authority might have earned it. And yet, each time he accepted her scolding, usually agreeing with her that he'd stuffed up. Even when he caught her snooping through his things in her need to know him better, he held his own tongue. And then, when she was upset for any reason other than his antics, he was there for her, providing support and a shoulder to cry on.

Her biggest problem was his small touches. Those were her downfall. They meant nothing really, she tried to tell herself, a hand rested on her forearm or at the small of her back. It was just his way. And yet each and every one of them made her feel more alive, as though she had been frozen or asleep these many years since she'd lost Christopher, and Lucien had restored her to the woman she was meant to be. He made her remember the dreams she'd had for herself as a girl, and he made her believe she might just be able to accomplish the things she'd dreamt of.

"Jean?" he said gently, drawing her back to the wonderful moment that was her present life.

"Sorry," she said, returning her attention to this beautiful man who now wore a ring that matched her own. "I was just thinking about how far we've come."

He smiled down at her, his blue eyes shining with love. "A very long journey," he agreed, "but worth every step, since it led us here."

"Nowhere I'd rather be," she said firmly.

"Except perhaps alone together?" he growled into her ear.

"Patience, my love. We'll have every night for the rest of our lives to be alone together." She thought of all the new ways he could use his small touches to convey his love for her. The future couldn't be brighter.

* * *

Right from the start you were a thief, you stole my heart

And I your willing victim.

I let you see the parts of me that weren't all that pretty,

And with every touch you fixed them.


	32. Come Dancing - The Kinks

A/N: In trying to stay with an upbeat mood, this one takes place in my Lukeverse. Luke Blake is growing up and going to his first dance.

* * *

Luke was excited. His first school dance, with girls! The catch, though, was that his parents were among those who had volunteered to act as chaperones for the affair. As much as he loved his parents, he wasn't quite sure how he felt about them bearing witness to his first attempts at attracting the attentions of the opposite sex.

He imagined they were at least a little aware it might be a bit awkward for him, but they both seemed to be looking forward to the evening ahead. His mother made certain he could dance, the traditional kinds like the waltz and box step as well as more modern ones. She was an avid viewer of _Countdown_ on Sunday evenings, having told Luke how his father had introduced her to rock-and-roll when working on a murder investigation, so she seemed to know all the latest dances.

His father was a musician, of course, and he'd taught Luke to play the drums. He'd also told Luke it had proved a great way to meet girls, but so far the band Luke played in hadn't managed to get any gigs where girls might see him.

He glanced over to his left where Janet Farnham was chatting with her friends. Janet was the most beautiful girl in the whole school, as far as Luke was concerned. He just wished he was brave enough to ask her to dance. He figured most of the other boys had the same fears, since very few people were actually dancing.

While his father was making the rounds, checking that no one had sneaked outside, his mother wandered past the group of girls and then toward him.

"Why aren't you dancing?" she asked him quietly. "There must be a girl you'd like to dance with."

He glanced quickly toward Janet, hoping his mother didn't notice, then shrugged his shoulders.

But his mother noticed everything. She looked over at Janet and raised an eyebrow. She leaned closer to Luke. "She's very pretty. Why not ask her to dance?"

Luke shook his head. "She could dance with anybody she wants. She's one of the most popular girls here."

"But she's not dancing with anyone, is she?"

Luke glanced over at Janet. She met his eyes for just a moment, then looked down at the floor. Luke looked back at his mother and shrugged again. "Maybe later."

The band began to play a slow song, Joe Cocker's "You Are So Beautiful" at just the moment Luke's father reappeared.

He nodded toward the dance floor and held out a hand to his wife. "May I, my dear?"

"Lucien, in front of these children?" she hissed.

"And why not?" he replied. "It _is_ a dance after all. We should be setting an example, shouldn't we?"

"Oh, very well." She put her hand in his and he kissed it before leading her onto the dance floor, where they fell into perfect step together, swaying together gracefully.

Luke had the feeling he should be embarrassed, but he found himself watching them with a touch of envy, and he noticed most everyone else was, as well.

He was so engrossed in watching them that he didn't see Janet approach until she was standing right beside him.

"Those are your parents, right? They're so romantic." She sighed. "Are you that romantic, too?"

Luke knew at once that she was offering him an opening, and he wasn't going to miss his chance. "Maybe you'd like to dance with me and see for yourself?" he suggested.

She smiled and nodded at him. Luke held out his hand to her just as he'd watched his father do, then led her out onto the floor. When he took her in his arms, he decided maybe having his parents chaperone the dance wasn't such a bad thing after all. He might just have to ask his father for some more tips on impressing girls.

* * *

Come dancing

Come on, sister, have yourself a ball

Don't be afraid to come dancing

It's only natural


	33. Some Day - Delta Generators

The scent of death was in the room now, as Thomas Blake lay stricken, ashen and gasping for air in his bed. Jean knew it was only a matter of time until he passed, and she had no idea what would happen after that.

The young District Nurse Mattie O'Brien was listening to his chest with her stethoscope. When she finished, she looked at Jean sadly and shook her head. Since neither of them knew just how much the doctor could hear or understand, Mattie didn't say aloud that which they both knew, that he probably wouldn't last the day.

"Jean, I'll keep him company for a while," said Mattie. "Why don't you take a break?"

"I'll just pop the kettle on," said Jean. She gave the doctor's hand a gentle pat on her way from the room.

As she waited for the water to boil, she sank down onto a chair, tired to her very bones. Ever since the doctor had come home to die in his own bed, Jean's days had been long and exhausting. She certainly didn't begrudge him the extra work, not after his years of kindness to her. In fact, she preferred to stay busy.

It was in her few idle moments like this that she found herself wondering what came next for her. When the doctor was gone she supposed she would be kept on until his affairs were settled and the house was sold, but then what? She honestly had no idea what she would do, or even what she wanted to do.

She thought back to her youth and all the dreams she'd had of seeing the world. Maybe once this was finally over and done, she'd go down to the railway station and take the first train out of town, find a new city to call home. Or why stop there? Why not an airplane? She'd always wanted to see Sydney, or maybe Adelaide for a visit to Christopher. There was really nothing keeping her in Ballarat, now that both her sons were long gone from here.

She shook herself, marveling at her own foolishness. She knew perfectly well she'd never do any of those things. She was Jean Beazley, farmer's widow and housekeeper, nothing more, despite those long ago yearnings.

Impatiently she stood to see to the kettle, but just as she poured the boiling water into the teapot there came a knock at the front door.

"Who could that be?" she murmured to herself. Everyone in town knew Doctor Blake was in no condition to receive visitors.

She pulled the door open to reveal a tall man in a rumpled suit, a traveling case in his hand. He wore a fedora that concealed the upper half of his face as he looked down at his feet. Must be a salesman with his case of samples, she thought.

When he saw her, he removed his hat politely and looked up at her. She was struck at once by his amazingly blue eyes as they looked her over.

Something shifted inside Jean as she immediately realized this was no traveling salesman. She didn't know yet who he was, but a feeling stole over her that her entire life was about to change.

* * *

Some day

I'm gonna ride that train

I'm gonna fly that plane

I'm gonna get so high

I'll let my demons die

Some day


	34. Angelina - Keb' Mo'

_A/N: Another bit of my Lukeverse. In this one Luke is a little older._

Luke stood over the drinks table, wondering if he could manage to sneak a beer without his mother noticing. While he was trying to figure out where she was, a heavy hand came down upon his shoulder. He looked up at his father.

"Son, you'll be of drinking age soon enough," Lucien said gently.

"I suppose," said Luke, "but it's a party, Dad."

"Yes, it is, but if your mother catches you drinking, and me allowing it, neither of us will live long enough to see you reach drinking age."

Danny Parks appeared from behind him. "That's if I don't arrest you first, young man," he warned. "Doc, Auntie Jean was looking for you. I think she wants you to make a speech now."

Lucien sighed. Fifteen years they'd been married, fifteen years to the day. Maybe it was time he told her just how much he hated making speeches. But she was still Jean, the love of his life, and he would do anything in his power to make her happy, and so he would give a speech.

Danny pointed him in the right direction, and Lucien went to find his wife. As usual, just the sight of her made his heart beat faster. Even after all this time, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and the most remarkable.

He approached her and kissed her cheek, causing her to turn to him and give him her lovely smile. "There you are," she said. She lifted a hand and rubbed her fingers through his beard. "With all the people we love around us, I was hoping you could say a few words to thank them, commemorate the day."

"For you, my love, anything," he told her.

Danny had followed Lucien, and now took charge. He raised his voice. "Oy, you lot, pipe down. The doc wants to speak."

The room became almost quiet, all looking on expectantly.

"Thank you, Danny," Lucien said, with just a hint of irony. He noted that Luke had also followed him over to listen, and he cleared his throat. "Jean has asked me to say a few words. Evidently she's forgotten the very first time she heard me make a speech, for the new British consul at the time. I'll bet Matthew Lawson hasn't forgotten it."

"You're right about that, mate," Matthew called out, rubbing his jaw.

"I do remember that," Jean insisted, "and I wasn't very happy with you, as I recall."

Lucien chuckled. "Yes, and you let me know in no uncertain terms," he recalled. "I deserved it, of course. I deserved all the times you chastised me. I hope I've become a better man because of all those times."

"You have," Jean assured him.

"As we celebrate fifteen years of marriage, I can't help but think of a moment on our honeymoon when, as you guessed, my lovely bride told me off."

Jean nodded, recalling the same incident.

"Do you remember what I did that upset you?"

"You bought me a diamond and pearl ring," said Jean.

Luke spoke up. "You got mad at Dad for buying you a ring?"

"That's right," said Jean. "It was the day after he bought me a diamond pendant. And two days after he tried to buy me a fur coat."

"And three days after the pearl earrings," said Lucien. "I'm sure you're seeing a pattern here. I had just married this incredible woman, and I wanted to give her the world."

"He isn't exaggerating, either," Jean insisted. "I expect he would have tried to buy me a yacht if I hadn't put my foot down."

"But Dad buys you presents all the time now," said Luke, clearly confused.

"Yes, but, well, it's different now," said Lucien, not quite sure how to explain it so Luke would understand.

Jean took pity on him and intervened. "On our honeymoon, we were still finding our way with each other. Each of us knew how much we loved the other person, but we weren't entirely sure how much we were loved in return. Yes, Lucien?"

"Exactly right," said Lucien. "I thought I could show her how I felt by buying her expensive gifts, instead of telling her how I felt."

"And I was afraid he thought I'd married him for his money."

"Why didn't you just talk about it?" Luke wondered.

Jean and Lucien exchanged a smile.

"I'm afraid we weren't very good at talking about our feelings back then," said Lucien.

"No, we weren't," said Jean. "Instead we had our first fight. Our first _married _fight, anyway. And only after that did we really talk."

"Only to find out that neither of us had any reason to doubt the other. And so now your mother knows that any gifts I bring to her are out of love, with no ulterior motives. Do you understand now?" Lucien asked Luke.

"I think so," said Luke. A sly grin came over his features. "You know, Dad, if you want me to be sure of how much you love me, I could really use a Sony Walkman."

As the room broke into laughter, Matthew called out, "Young man, you're too much like your father. Always playing an angle."

Luke grinned at his parents, thinking that was just fine by him.

* * *

I tried to give you diamonds and pearls

All that did was tear us apart

I tried to give you everything in the world

When all you really wanted was my heart

My heart


	35. The Boys of Summer - Don Henley

_Of late, my comfort music in self-isolation has been that of the Eagles along with Don Henley's solo work like this song. The Snippet takes place in the same AU as #15, 'Such a Night', where Jean and Lucien meet and connect shortly before he leaves for medical school in Edinburgh. In this one he's already in med school._

It was nearing sundown when he finally emerged from the bus in Ballarat. Lucien felt as though he'd been traveling for weeks rather than merely days. His father had unexpectedly sent him the fare to come home for Christmas, and although the prospect of a stilted holiday celebration with dear old Dad did not hold a lot of appeal, the chance to see Jean made it all very appealing indeed.

He had not told her he was coming, wanting to surprise her, even though he knew he ran the risk that she might well have made other plans. But they corresponded frequently, and she had indicated it would be a quiet family holiday for her.

He knew he really should go home first to greet his father and thank him for making the trip home possible, but he longed to see Jean's face, hold her in his arms. He could already picture her surprise (and delight, he hoped) at his sudden appearance.

After retrieving his traveling case from the bus driver, he looked to hail a cab to take him out to the Beazley farm. Just as he thought he saw one heading toward the bus stop, he heard his name called out by a very familiar voice.

"Blake! Oy, mate."

He turned to see Matthew Lawson walking toward him.

"What in hell are you doing back here?"

"Matthew Lawson. Bloody hell. Good to see you."

The two men shook hands, greeting each other with warm smiles.

"Don't tell me you're home for Christmas after all this time," said Matthew.

"Would you believe it? Dad offered to spring for the fare, so I could hardly pass up a chance to see Jean, could I?"

For some reason Matthew looked uncomfortable when Lucien mentioned Jean. Jealous, perhaps? Regretting that he'd introduced the two of them? That wasn't like Matthew, though. "What is it?" he finally asked. "Something regarding Jean?"

Matthew just shook his head.

"I thought I'd go by the farm," said Lucien.

"This time of the evening I doubt you'll find her at the farm," said Matthew. "They mostly go down to the lake."

"_They?_" Lucien's thoughts began to race.

"There's a crowd of people her age. Ones she was at school with mostly," Matthew hastened to add.

Rather than feeling reassured, Lucien felt even more unsettled by Matthew's hasty qualification. In his mind he could picture his lovely Jean at the beach, resplendent in her bathing costume, her hair tied back and her skin glowing bronze from the sun. And a coterie of handsome, adoring young men hanging on her every word. Not that he could really blame them, of course - everything about Jean was enchanting. He decided he had better go to find her, the sooner the better, and discover if her feelings had perhaps changed in the months he'd been away. He would need a car for that.

When he reached home, he was somewhat relieved to find his father was out with friends for the evening. The housekeeper, Mrs. Trent, indicated that her employer had thought Lucien wouldn't arrive until sometime the following morning. Lucien assured her he could manage by himself, but he would be taking his father's car for a while. He dragged his case upstairs to his childhood bedroom and quickly freshened up before heading out.

The roads were surprisingly empty as he drove through town on his way toward the lake. He supposed it must be due to the holiday. He braked at a traffic light, and while waiting he glanced over at the only other vehicle in sight, a shiny new Mercedes-Benz driven by a chauffeur. He could guess who owned it, and surely enough, when he looked toward the rear seat, there was Patrick Tyneman, his face buried in a book. Wondering what had him so intrigued, Lucien glanced at the book's cover and saw it was Karl Marx's _Das Kapital._ It had to be a university assignment, Lucien thought, but the irony wasn't lost on him.

He reached the lake as the last rays of sunshine disappeared, only to find it completely deserted. He hoped that meant more of Matthew's information about Jean was mistaken. Could she be at the farm after all? It was his next stop, but as he approached the dirt lane running up to the farmhouse, he could see that the place was completely dark.

He supposed she could be visiting other family, just as she'd indicated she would. But that meant he didn't know where to look next. He needed to see her tonight, needed to know where they stood. He loved her beyond all reason, but Jean was only eighteen years old. Maybe it wasn't fair of him to expect her to be willing to commit herself to one man, especially now, when the beach was teeming with boys home for the summer.

He drove back into town slowly, considering his next destination. As if by magic (and he often thought everything about Jean was touched by magic) he saw her emerge from the cinema. She was with a crowd of young people, boys and girls, all laughing at something one of them had said.

He pulled the car over beside them and rolled down the window. "Jean!" he called to her.

Her double-take at seeing him would have been comical if his heart hadn't been lodged in his throat. Her eyes widened, and then the most brilliant smile he'd ever seen bloomed across her face. She spoke a quick word to her friends before rushing over to the car and quickly sliding into the seat.

"Lucien, what are you..."

Before she could finish the sentence he was kissing her, and she returned it with equal fervour, so eager in fact that any doubts he had were burned away by its intensity. Jean was his, just as much as he was hers, and no summer boys would change that, he was certain.

* * *

Empty lake, empty streets,

The sun goes down alone,

I'm driving by your house

Though I know you're not home

But I can see you -

Your brown skin shining in the sun

You got your hair combed back, sunglasses on, baby,

I can tell you my love for you will still be strong

After the boys of summer have gone.

A/N:'Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac' didn't quite work in this time period, thus I gave you the 1930s equivalent, Karl Marx in a Mercedes.


	36. All She Wants to Do Is Dance-Don Henley

_Yes, another one based on a Don Henley song, but this is a completely different AU._

Lucien was sure he would never get used to the hot, humid climate. Ever since he'd begun the assignment to keep tabs on an outfit of gunrunners, he'd found the nights intolerable. Too much like the years he'd spent in Changi prison during the war. When he left that hell behind he never expected to set foot on the Malay Peninsula again, yet here he was.

Unable to sleep, he'd fallen into a routine of drinking the evening away in the cramped, noisy bar, above which he'd taken an equally cramped room as his temporary home. Of late, though, the nights had become slightly more manageable since he had a drinking companion. Jean had appeared one day, saying her money had run out so she'd been put ashore here in this hellhole. She was not just lovely - Lucien suspected she was much more intelligent than most of the locals gave her credit for.

All they saw was the crazy Western woman who wanted to dance. And dance she did, for hours on end, pausing only to down another drink. Sometimes she managed to entice Lucien into joining her on the dance floor, and as they danced they would talk. That's when he became convinced she was entirely more clever than she usually let on, despite the fact that she seemed entirely unconcerned with the guerrillas and munitions makers all around her.

But when the song ended, she would give him a coquettish smile and walk away into the arms of some other man. Sometimes, to his chagrin, she would leave with one of those other men. He knew it shouldn't let it bother him. He was on an assignment, and the last thing he needed was to get romantically involved, no matter how beautiful the woman was. Yet night after night as he watched her dance (or better still, dance with _him_) he was tempted to ply her with charm and try to woo her into his bed.

This continued on. By day he was doing his best to get close to the men he suspected of selling arms to the Malay rebels, but each night he spent with the best whiskey the bar could find, sharing it with Jean as often as she would let him.

On the very day he confirmed that the men he was following were indeed running guns, all hell broke loose. It began with the British bombers flying low and dropping their payloads directly on the neighborhood. Lucien realized that if they scored a hit on the shed where the munitions were stored, several blocks would be flattened in the resulting explosion.

He knew he had to get out, but he also knew he had to be sure Jean was safe. He ran for the bar, looking around wildly, but he couldn't find her. Frantically, he went toward the back room, wishing all the time that he knew where she lived, wishing he'd asked her even though he was quite certain she wouldn't have told him anyway.

The back of the bar was deserted. Did the whole town know about the arms stored nearby? Maybe Jean knew as well, and she had already fled to safety. But could he be sure of that?

He headed back out to the bar, thinking he might take a moment to grab his belongings from upstairs, but as he looked in that direction, there was Jean coming down the stairs with his bags.

"There you are," she said. "Here, take these. We have to go. **Now!**"

He stood for just a moment, his mouth hanging open in shock, before he grabbed his bags from her and took her hand.

He would have run for the edge of town, but Jean stopped him and pointed to an old, half-rusted out car parked directly in front of the bar. She dangled the keys at him before pushing him inside and sliding behind the wheel herself. She threw the car into gear while he could only stare at her in amazement.

When they were safely in the jungle and away from the falling bombs, he finally found his voice again, but he could manage only one word. "Jean?"

She slowed the car to a stop so she could turn to look at him. "Yes, Lucien?"

"Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am?"

"Well, you're certainly more than a lovely lady who wants to spend all her time dancing," said Lucien.

She laughed in delight. "Well, you figured that part out at least."

Then finally it dawned on him. "You're my handler?" He narrowed his eyes. "That's why you would dance and drink with me, but only occasionally. Not enough to draw attention to the two of us being together."

"Not that I wasn't tempted to go farther. You're a very good dancer. But we couldn't take a chance on anyone making the connection between us."

He gave her his most charming smile as he glanced around. "There doesn't seem to be anyone around now to make the connection," he pointed out.

Slowly she returned the smile. "No, there certainly doesn't," she agreed. "Did you have anything particular in mind?"

He whispered, "Let's start with this and see where it takes us." And he eased his way across the seat to kiss her in the manner he'd been wanting to do for weeks.

Any dance they did now would be of the horizontal variety.

* * *

Crazy people walking round with blood in their eyes

And all she wants to do is dance, dance

Wild-eyed pistol wavers who ain't afraid to die

And all she wants to do is

All she wants to do is dance, and make romance


	37. Little Tin God - Don Henley

_Yes, another Don Henley song. This one is not as well known as the first two. It's from his album 'The End of the Innocence'. And the story is set in my apocalyptic AU from Chapter 19, 'It's the End of the World As We Know It'. This is a bit longer than usual. I hope no one minds._

"Lucien, I should go with you. I'm perfectly capable of handling a gun," Jean pointed out. "If you'll recall, I saved your life with one once upon a time."

"You did, my dear, and I'm very grateful. And if we were in the Ballarat of a few months ago, there's no one I would rather have along," Lucien assured her. "But we have no idea what we're facing here, or their attitude toward women. From what we can see, there are at least fifty men inside there, and we haven't seen any women whatsoever."

"Lucien's right," said Alice. "Let them check it out before we reveal ourselves to those men."

They had spotted the barricaded community the night before, just prior to sundown. Since then they had taken turns watching the place, trying to determine if it was safe to approach. With Ballarat in ruins, they needed to find a new home, a new place to belong. This was the first settlement they'd reached since they'd left the bunker (and the remains of Ballarat) behind.

The men inside seemed to have a lot of weapons, which meant they might be overly militaristic or they might have something of value to protect, probably stores of food. The Ballarat contingent still had enough food to last them several weeks, but they wanted to ensure a future source before it ran low.

Lucien had proposed that he and Jack approach the settlement alone, not advertising the existence of the others until they determined it was safe. Christopher, still feeling the effects of the head wound he'd sustained en route to the bunker, had stayed behind with Ruby and Amelia in the safety of their underground refuge. And Matthew's bad leg would present a problem if they had to make a run for it.

In other circumstances Lucien would have valued Jean's assessment of whatever they found inside, but with no women in sight, he had an uneasy feeling about what might be going on in there. He didn't want Jean or Alice exposed until he had a better idea what they were facing.

"Besides," he told her, "if we have to leave there in a hurry, you're the best at handling the shotgun to cover our escape."

Jean wasn't happy about sending both her husband and her son into a potentially dangerous situation, but she knew she'd better get used to it. Outside of their bunker, there was no safe place. And Lucien knew just how important he was, not only to her, but to the survival of all of them.

She pulled him into a long kiss and whispered, "You be careful."

"We could be gone for a day or two, depending on how long it takes to see what's actually going on," he told her.

"Yes, I know. We'll be watching constantly, and we'll be ready to pull out instantly if we have to."

Lucien and Jack took only a day's rations with them, and a single gun, an old pistol that was the least reliable of their weapons and one for which they had little ammunition. They suspected it might be confiscated inside and didn't want to risk losing anything more valuable.

Guns from inside the settlement were trained on the two of them as they approached the barricade.

"Don't let on that I'm a doctor," Lucien said softly. If there was no doctor among them, the inhabitants might be unwilling to let him leave under any circumstances.

As he expected, they were searched before they were brought inside the settlement. The pistol and food were taken from them, and they were brought before the leader of the community, a small but burly man wearing an Army major's tunic with a host of combat medals pinned to the chest. Lucien was willing to bet the man had never been an officer, if he'd ever been in the military at all.

"What's your story?" he demanded of them.

Lucien spoke up, staying close to the truth without giving too much away. "We hid underground until it all stopped. Been wandering ever since, looking for a place to settle. You?"

The man looked affronted that anyone had dared put a question to him. "My name is Colonel Cooper, and you're standing in Cooperville," he said haughtily. "What I say is the law here. Why should I let you stay?"

Lucien saw through him at once: a small man with a power complex, determined to make the most of his current situation. Probably ran this place as his own private fiefdom. Odds were good that this wasn't the kind of place they wanted for their new home, but he didn't want to tip his hand until he knew more.

"I'm ex-Army myself, sir," he told the man. "During the war. Since then I worked with the police. If you need help with security, I'm your man. And Jack, here, has experience with the police as well." He didn't feel it necessary to reveal which side of the law Jack's experience had been on.

"I suppose I could always use more men to keep the peace. Are you willing to swear your allegiance?" Cooper asked.

"Allegiance to what?" asked Lucien warily.

"To this community. To me," the man said, as though the two were the same. "Kneel now and swear to follow my commands and protect Cooperville."

Lucien and Jack exchanged a glance. It was clear neither of them felt any allegiance whatsoever to this tinpot dictator. "Since we've just met you, can we possibly see more of this place first?" Lucien asked. "We'd like to know what we're getting into."

Apparently that was the wrong response to make to a man who demanded absolute loyalty. "Let them see the inside of our cell, then," Cooper said to his cadre of bodyguards.

And what they saw in the cells was dismaying. A dozen young women and a few children huddled against the farthest wall, cringing as though they wanted to disappear completely when the guards opened the cell door. After Lucien and Jack were shoved inside and the guards had left, the women continued to eye the newcomers with suspicion.

Lucien put on his most reassuring bedside manner. "It's all right. We won't harm you," he assured them. "We just want to know what's going on here. Why are you being kept locked up like this?"

It took some coaxing, but eventually one of them moved away from the wall and closer to them. Lucien thought she had probably been a stunning young woman in another life, and she was still very pretty. He could see that Jack thought so, too. He smiled gently at her, encouraging her to trust them.

"We're nothing more than their sex slaves," she said bitterly. "Cooper and his guards come in here at sundown and drag us up to their barracks. They starve us and beat us if we don't cooperate."

Horrified, Lucien said, "The children?"

The woman shook her head. "So far they've left the children alone. They know if they hurt the little ones they'll have open rebellion on their hands."

Another woman, somewhat older than the first stepped forward. "Lana has it the worst," she said, indicated the pretty young woman. "They take her every night, mostly to Cooper, and he's an abusive bastard."

Jack swore under his breath. "We'll help, won't we?" he said to Lucien.

Clearly they couldn't let this go on, but the two of them by themselves couldn't take on a dozen armed guards. They would need help, and a plan.

"We're going to have to get out of here first ourselves," he said slowly. "All of us at once would never make it out without being caught. But I promise, _I promise,_ that we'll be back to get you."

He examined the lock on the cell door. It looked simple enough. "Does anyone happen to have a hairpin?" he asked.

At Lana's suggestion, they waited until it was dark outside. Then with a bit of jiggling the hairpin, he had the door open.

"Take Lana with you, and the children," said the older woman. "Lana can show you a way out."

"Is that right?" he asked Lana, who nodded.

He and Jack put the two smallest children on their backs, and the other three gathered close.

"We'll be back for the rest of you," Lucien repeated.

"Go," said the older woman, and they did. They followed Lana through a storage room, where she lifted aside a section of the aluminum siding that made up the majority of the barricade.

Immediately, Lucien spotted the searchlights that swept the area. He kept everyone still, flat against the outer wall, until he could time the pattern of the sweeps. Then he sent Jack first, with two of the children, running full tilt for the cover of the trees. Lana went next, with another of the children. When they were safely away, it was Lucien's turn.

The youngest of the children clung tightly to his back, and a little girl of perhaps five or six, hung unto his hand. "Are you ready to run?" he whispered to her. "As fast as you can."

She nodded solemnly and squeezed his hand more tightly.

He tracked the searchlight with his eyes for a moment longer, then said, "Now!" And they began to run.

They were nearly clear when the little girl stumbled and cried out. At once the searchlight halted its routine arc and began looking for them.

"Go!" he told Jack and Lana urgently. "They'll be after us."

He scooped up the little girl in his right arm, while his left held onto the one riding on his back. He was relieved that Jack was clever enough to head away from the spot where Jean and the others were waiting. They didn't want to lead any pursuers directly to their camp.

They ran for what seemed like hours, hearing occasional shouts from behind them, but never close enough to be spotted. When they were finally certain they were no longer being pursued, they stopped for a rest, then slowly began making their way in a wide circle back toward their encampment.

Jean had been awake for most of the night, unable to sleep after seeing the commotion from the settlement and fearing the worst. She had directed Alice and Matthew to get some rest, even if she herself couldn't.

It was nearly dawn when she heard the rustling of some nearby bushes. She held the shotgun ready for action until she saw Jack stumble tiredly into view.

He set down the two young children he was carrying before hugging his mother.

"Thank God you're safe. Lucien?" she asked.

He pointed behind him, then sank to the ground in exhaustion.

A young woman carrying yet another child came next. She managed a nod to Jean, then sat down beside Jack and leaned against him.

Jean held her breath until finally Lucien appeared. She stifled a cry of relief as she helped him put down the last two children, then she hugged him fiercely. "Are you all right?" she asked him.

"Right as rain," he quickly assured her.

"From now on, we stick together," she said. "No matter what."

"Yes, you're right, my dear," he told her, "but I'm afraid this isn't over yet. I have a promise to keep."

* * *

_You don't have to pray to a little tin god_

_Step out of the way for a little tin god_

_You might fear the reaper, fear the rod_

_But you never have to get down on your knees_

_You don't have to holler "please, please"_

_No, you never have to get down on your knees_

_For a little tin god_


	38. Waiting Tables - Don Henley

_Another Don Henley song, another AU. This one takes place shortly after the war ended. Jean had to give up the farm, but Thomas Blake was not there to hire her as his housekeeper, so she took a job as a waitress at a somewhat seedy diner. As with many people living on the edge of poverty, she finds it difficult to give up what little security she has in search of something better._

* * *

Jean knew it would be a long night - Mondays always were. Only those with absolutely nowhere else to go came to eat at the diner on Monday nights, especially on a rainy night like this. The customers were few, and Jean felt like she knew the life story of every one of them. There was Mrs. Hemings, who never tired of talking about her son, the war hero, when Jean knew that in reality the boy had been shot for desertion. Jean felt no ill will toward the woman, despite losing Christopher to the same war. She knew that when you lose someone you love, you cope with that loss however you can. If that meant imagining him as a hero, then that's what you did.

Next to Mrs. Hemings at the lunch counter was wizened old Mr. Burton, who was, in fact, an actual war hero. He'd lost an arm in the Great War, but he nodded sympathetically at everything Mrs. Hemings said. Jean knew Mr. Burton was just grateful that anyone took the time to notice him, to speak with him.

Sitting in the booth beside the front window was Wilma Farrell, staring out at the gloomy night. Once upon a time Wilma had been the prettiest girl in school. After graduation she'd married the school footie star Chester Green, but Chester had never managed to adjust to life off the pitch, and one drunken night his rage had boiled over and he'd flung a cauldron of hot water at his wife, leaving her badly disfigured and sending him for a long term as a guest of the state of Victoria.

And finally, there was Jimmy Adkins. Jimmy was too young for the war, but he'd seen his share of fighting - between his parents. When they went at it too loudly, he would slip out and sit in the booth at the back, nursing a milkshake for however long he judged it might take his parents to calm down.

Jean walked around with the teapot, topping up cups where needed and making sure her few customers had what they needed, or at least, as much of it as the diner could provide. She cleared away the remains of Wilma's dinner, noticing how little of it had actually been eaten. She knew the problem wasn't with the food, it was with Wilma.

She was taking the dishes back into the kitchen for washing when she heard the front door open. Quickly she rinsed off her hands and dried them on her apron as she went to greet the new customer. She was surprised to see a stranger, a very handsome, well-dressed man. At first glance she thought he was quite a bit older than Jean herself, but as she looked closer she could tell that the lines on his face were from some great tragedy, not from age. And there was a haunted look behind his piercing blue eyes.

"Good evening," she said. "Feel free to sit anywhere you like."

He removed his fedora, grimaced at the rain it had collected, then managed a faint smile. "Good evening," he said. He indicated a booth along the side, which seemed to be as far away from the other customers as he could get in the rather small establishment.

Jean nodded that it was fine, and he removed his topcoat and tossed it over the bench on one side before sliding into the opposite bench. Jean handed him a menu in its cracked plastic cover. "The lamb chops are quite good, as is the rabbit stew," she told him.

He barely glanced at the menu. "The lamb sounds fine. Do you have coffee?"

"We don't usually make a pot this late, but..."

He held up a hand. "No, don't bother. Tea will do, thank you."

He seemed very tired, too weary to deal with much, she thought. Perhaps he had been traveling all day in the rain. "I'll bring the tea right away, then prepare the rest of your plate," she told him, hoping to make him feel at ease.

While she was pouring, Mrs. Hemings and Mr. Burton both stood up to leave. "Looks like the rain won't be stopping any time soon," Mr. Burton sighed as he donned his worn overcoat.

"You be careful getting home, both of you," Jean urged.

"Ta, Jean," said Mrs. Hemings, and they both hurried out into the night.

When she placed the cup in front of the stranger, he looked up and said, "Thank you. Jean, is it?"

"That's right, Jean Beazley," she confirmed. He looked like a man in need of some human interaction.

"Lucien Blake," he told her.

"I don't think I've seen you in here before, Mister Blake" she said, knowing for a fact she hadn't.

"No, I don't live around here. Not for many years, at least."

From his age and his world-weariness she strongly suspected he had been in the war, and perhaps was coming home from it, although most of the men had returned a few months ago. She wondered if he'd possibly been injured and just recently released from hospital. That would explain much about him.

"A pleasure to meet you. I'll have your meal for you shortly."

As she was headed for the kitchen to prepare his plate, Jimmy stood up. "G'night, Mrs. Beazley," he called on his way out.

"Good night, Jimmy. Be careful out there," she told him.

Back in the kitchen she looked over the remaining pork chops and slid the best looking ones on a plate, along with some roasted potatoes and carrots. Then she warmed up a bit of gravy and emptied it into one of the small pitchers they used as gravy boats. She placed plate and pitcher on a tray, along with a steak knife for the chops, and carried it out to him.

She was laying it on the table in front of him when Wilma called out, "Good night, Jean. Thank you."

"Good night, Wilma. You be safe now."

Wilma waved and was gone.

Mr. Blake looked around and noted he was now the only customer. "I won't be long," he told her. "I don't want to keep you."

"Take your time. I can't close up for at least another hour, and I'd rather have someone to talk to than sit here all alone."

"Why don't you join me," he suggested, standing up to move his coat from the other bench, then pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the seat down and make certain it was dry.

"All right," she agreed. "I'll just get myself a cuppa." She held up the pot toward him, asking if he needed a refill, but he shook his head. She took her cup and sat down opposite him, and they began to talk.

And talk they did. She told him about losing her husband, having to give up their farm in order to support her young sons. She explained that Christopher's sister had two young children of her own, so Jean looked after all four of them while Mrs. Parks worked during the day, and she took care of the boys while Jean worked in the evening.

In turn, he told her about losing his wife and daughter at the start of the war, then serving as a prisoner of war for the duration. As she had suspected, he had been in hospital recovering from the effects of the experience until just days before. He had intended to spend some time with his father in Ballarat, regaining his strength and deciding his future, but now that he'd arrived here, he wasn't entirely certain he could go through with that plan.

"Why not?" asked Jean. "Surely after what you've been through you want to spend time with the family you have left?"

"It feels like I'm betraying my wife," said Lucien, shaking his head. "My father forbid me to marry Mei Lin because she was Chinese. He made it clear she was never welcome in his home."

"Oh, Lucien." She reached out to hold his hands in sympathy, and the two of them sat together in silence for a long moment. Vaguely, Jean realized that the rain had stopped, and the moon had come out from behind the clouds.

"Tell me about her," she said at last, and he told her all about Mei Lin and their little girl, Li, and how they'd been lost at sea trying to escape Singapore. He had only learned their fate after his prison camp had finally been liberated by the Allies.

And when he asked, Jean told him about Christopher, how she had been told about his death in the Solomons long after the fact, and how she'd struggled to maintain their farm in his absence, until she'd been forced to admit defeat when she could no longer feed her sons adequately. The farm had been foreclosed by the bank, and she'd had no choice but to accept the first job that came her way, here as a waitress.

She had never thought she could share her tale of woe and admit the depths of her despair with anyone, much less someone she'd just met, but the kindness in his eyes and the empathy welling up from his own experiences made him easy to talk to, and she had to admit it felt good to talk of it with someone who understood. There was no judgment of her failings in his manner.

They talked long after closing time, and Jean was surprised to see the moon was going down when she finally stood to clear away the dishes.

It seemed he was as reluctant for the night to end as she was. He followed her back into the kitchen, and as she started to wash the dishes, he picked up a towel and began to dry them.

When they finished, she looked at the clock.

"I'm afraid I have to go," she told him. "My boys will be awake soon, and I have to get them breakfast and ready for school. What about you? Did you decide if you're going home to see your father?"

"I'm not sure. I think I'll sleep on it. I passed a new hotel on my way here. I'll book a room and get some rest, then decide."

"Whatever you decide, the best of luck to you, Lucien."

"And to you, Jean. Thank you."

Just like that, he was gone.

Jean spent the day as she always did, cleaning the house, baking biscuits, getting some rest. And thinking about Lucien. She wished that she would learn what became of him. She felt something there, a sort of kindred soul.

She was still thinking of him when she got to the diner that evening. She knew it was foolish of her, but she looked around upon entering, hoping to see him there. But of course he wasn't.

Sighing, she reached for her apron and was just tying up the strings when the day waitress, Ellen, walked toward her holding out an envelope. It bore the trademark of the Soldiers Hill Hotel.

"A good looking bloke asked me to give this to you," said Ellen.

Jean nodded her thanks and retired to the back room to read it.

_Dear Jean,_

_It was a pleasure getting to know you. My apologies for keeping you up all night, but I've just had the best sleep I've had since before the war. I've decided to stay with my father for at least a short while, and I'd very much like to get to know you better, and your boys, too. Perhaps when I decide to leave this town, the three of you can come with me, and we'll start a brand new life for all of us. Together._

_Doctor Lucien Blake_

Jean had spent too much of her life being cautious. She was ready to throw caution to the winds and begin her life anew. With her boys and Lucien. Together.

* * *

She's waiting tables, she's just waiting tables

She's learned a lot about people, more than she ever wanted to know

She's just waiting tables, waiting tables

Biding her time until there's somewhere else to go

One rainy night a handsome man came in

Said he was bound for parts unknown

They talked and talked until the moon went down

But in the morning he was gone

And she's waiting tables


	39. Too Far Gone - Don Henley

_AU in the same storyline as #15 Such a Night and #35 Boys of Summer. This one is a little further along in the timeline, and Jean is now living with Lucien in Edinburgh while he is finishing medical school._

Lucien had never been very fond of his Infectious Diseases professor, Doctor Mackenzie, but right now he felt absurdly grateful to the man for ending his lecture a full hour early. That meant Lucien could spend the rest of the afternoon with his brilliant Jean.

Jean had been auditing literature classes because they had agreed that as soon as he was working, she would enroll as a student, and she was trying to decide on a major field of study. But Lucien knew her schedule as well as he knew his own, and she had no classes, nor was she rostered on at the bookshop where she worked three days a week. She should be free, and he had glorious plans for how they could spend the rest of the day.

He hopped off the bus a few blocks from their flat, thinking he would buy some flowers to take to Jean. She'd seemed a bit preoccupied that morning, a bit distant, and he didn't know if he had done something to upset her or if she was feeling a bit homesick perhaps, but he hoped flowers would help in either case.

While he was at the flower vendor's stall trying to decide what variety to purchase, an automobile honked its horn rather loudly, causing him to turn and look. That's when he spotted Jean across the street. Before he could call out to her, though, he saw her laugh and swat playfully at the man beside her, his friend and bandmate Geordie Barton. He had been under the impression Jean didn't like Geordie very much - she'd claimed he was more than a bit too pleased with himself all the time. And as Lucien tried to figure out why Jean was being so friendly to the man, a bus pulled up beside them, and both Jean and Geordie hopped aboard it. He tracked her with his gaze as she took a seat, and Geordie sat beside her. The two of them had their heads together and appeared to be sharing a joke.

Like most young men, his immediate conclusion was that his girl was cheating on him; he was angry. But then he considered what he thought was her point of view. He spent most of his time studying while she spent it working, and then there was his playing in the band on weekends for extra money They were lucky if they went out twice a week for anything that could be considered fun. What kind of life was that for a girl her age? Yes, they had made plans together for their future and seemed to be in agreement that their work now would give them a better life in the future, but she deserved so much more than he could give her right now in terms of attention. And Geordie had little to occupy his time other than the band. He could give her what Lucien couldn't at the present time.

By the time he climbed the stairs to their empty flat, he felt nothing but despair. Was he just unlovable? His father endured him out of a sense of responsibility, but it had been a long time since he'd felt any love there. The first girl he'd ever been serious about was Monika, who had cheated on him repeatedly, and now he couldn't seem to keep Jean satisfied either.

He laid the bouquet of flowers on the kitchen table and poured himself a beer, taking it out to their tiny balcony that looked over the street. He sank down onto one of the old wooden kitchen chairs they kept out there and took a long pull on the beer. He tried to get control over his emotions although his heart was breaking.

He loved Jean, had done so since practically the moment he met her. He couldn't imagine a future without Jean in it, but above all, he wanted her happiness. If that meant setting her free to be with Geordie then, as difficult as it might be, that's what he would have to do. His only hope was that whatever this was with Geordie it might be a passing fancy. He would find a way to let Jean know that if she ever wanted to return to him, he would welcome her with open arms at any time.

When he'd made that decision, he finished the beer and was about the go back inside, but he spotted the two of them coming around the corner and heading toward the flat. Lucien debated whether to duck back out of sight, but Jean spotted him.

"Lucien!" she called out. "Good. You're home early." She smiled happily and waved to him. He thought he could feel his heart breaking all over again.

"Hello, you two," he managed.

Geordie called out, "Don't go anywhere, mate. We'll be right up."

_Where does he think I'd go, _Lucien wondered peevishly.

He walked back inside to deposit his empty bottle in the bin. He could hear the two of them whispering together as they climbed the stairs, and it nearly broke him.

He had forgotten about the flowers, but Jean spotted them as soon as she opened the door.

"For me?" she asked brightly, walking over for a better look.

He nodded, having to swallow before he could speak. "When class ended early, I'd thought we might do something together, but...". He trailed off and glanced around at what had been the empty space around him.

"I'm sorry," she said, "and thank you for the flowers." She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and when he made no effort to turn his head to catch her lips, she stepped back to stare at him. "Lucien?"

He shook his head, trying to keep the tears from welling up.

She continued to look closely at him, but then glanced over at Geordie.

Lucien was about to tell her what he had decided, to give her the freedom to do as she wished, but she didn't give him a chance.

"Maybe this will cheer you up," she said. She went over to Geordie and took from him a package that Lucien hadn't even noticed. She handed it to him.

Reluctantly and somewhat fearfully he took it, not knowing what to expect.

"Go ahead, open it," Jean urged.

Lucien could feel his hands shaking as he unpeeled the brown paper covering the package. Then he removed the cover from the box underneath and looked inside. A bass drum pedal. That's when the penny dropped. Jean hadn't been on a date with Geordie, she had enlisted him to help her pick out a replacement pedal for the one Lucien had broken at their last gig.

His heart soared! He grabbed her and kissed her fully on the mouth, then laughed in joy.

"It's just a pedal," she said, laughing with him.

"Yes, but it's from you, my love," he said, kissing her again.

And once again he could see the future falling into place, a future with Jean.

* * *

If ever your new love should hurt you or make you feel blue

Hurt you or make you feel blue

Just remember your old love will still be around loving you

I'll still be around loving you

'Cause I'm too far gone, too far gone

I've loved you so much for so long

And I'm too far goners


End file.
